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»-'  DOWN  EAST 


A  Comedy  Drama  in  Four  Acts 


BY 

JUSTIN  /aDAMS 
i^iithor  of  ''  Trtss/'  ''  At  the  Picket-line,"  ''Dawn" 


*'  Our  Daily  Bread"  etc, 

6 


.■el#l^. 


BOSTON 

WALTER  H.  BAKER  &  CO 

1900 


DOWN  EAST 


CHARACTERS 


EzEKiEL  Fletcher,  Village  postmaster  and  justice  of  the 
peace, 

Charles  Desmond,  The  mail  carrier, 

Ralph  Thorne,  Tourist. 

Jonas  Desmond,  Charley's  uncle. 

Deacon  Perkins,  Town  constable  as  well. 

Will  Wash  White,  Of  Southern  ancestry. 

Patrolman  Rounds. 

Elizabeth  Fletcher,  Who  keeps  things  a-moving.  Better 
known  as  *  ^  Bets. ' ' 

Hannah  Fletcher,  Zeke's  boss. 

Myra  Bigelow,  The  village  beauty. 


Act  I. — The  store  and  post  office  at  Swapstown,  Me. 
Act  II. — Jonas  Desmond's  faritiyard.  "^ 

Act  III. — Interior  of  the  61d  ^ist-mill. 
Act  IV. — Parlor  of  the  Palmer  House,  Chicago,  during  the 
World's  Fair. 


Costumes. — Modern,  but  in  keeping  with  the  locality  of  the 
play. 


Copyright,  1897,  by  Justin  Adams 


Ah 


Note. — The  author  charges  no  royalty  for  the  presentation 
of  this  play  by  amateurs. 


f. 


Down  East.  /4^/4 


ACT  I. 

SCENE. — A  coiintry  store  a7id post  office.  Opening  c.  showing 
landscape  beyo7id.  Door  leading  to  liviiig  rooms  r.  u.  e. 
Counter  L.  obliqued  up  and  down  stage.  Upper  part  of 
counter  has  post  boxes  on  it  with  small  ope?iing  for  passing 
mail  through.  Barrels,  kegs,  etc.,  itif 7^0 nt  of  counter.  Files 
of  tin  cans  on  counter.  Small  high  desk  up  R.  Sign  read- 
iftg  ^'Bicycles  repared.''  Other  signs  hanging  aboict,  but 
not  too  much  misspelled.  Lights  full  up.  Eight  bars  of 
lively  music  for  rise  of  curtain. 

Enter  Deacon  Jenkins,  c. 

Deacon.     Anybody  to  hum?    Well,  looks  kind  o'  deserted. 
Now  if  I  contemplated  a  raid  on  the  U.  S.  mail,  this  would  be 
"iity'opportunity.     Hullo  !   Hullo  !  !     {Bangs  counter.^     Fire  ! 
Smallpox  !     Hen  hawks  ! 

Enter  Hannah,  r.  u.  e. 

Hannah.  You'll  find  Zeke's  gun  behind  the  woodshed 
door.     Where  are  they,  deacon  ? 

Dea.  Well,  they  haven't  been  here  yet;  but  they  might 
have  been  and  carried  off  all  them  leghorns  of  yourn — ^jest  as 
I  might  have  carried  off  your  whole  shop  and  nobody  to  pre- 
vent me.     Who's  tending  store  to-day? 

Han.  Goodness  knows.  I  thought  Bets  was  out  here  all 
the  Vime.  Zeke's  gone  down  to  have  the  mare  shod.  Bets! 
jjcts  i^""  I  wonder  where  she's  got  to.     {Looking  around.^ 

Dea.  You  may  as  well  look  for  a  needle  in  a  haystack. 
She's  anywhere  'tween  here  and  judgment-day. 

Han.  I  never  saw  such  a  gal.  Last  night  she  went  out 
driving.  Grandther  Levkins  thought  it  would  do  his  rheuma- 
tism good  to  take  a  little  exercise,  so  Bets  agreed  to  drive  him 
out. 

Dea.     Did  he  get  the  exercise  ? 

^c^  OrfjoMi   ^% (lo  9^  C-* 


Han.  Did  he?  She  dumped  him  out  way  down  by  the 
sawmill  and  he  had  to  leg  it  three  miles  home. 

Dea.  Why  I  saw  him  this  morning  and  he  was  smart  as  a 
cricket. 

Han.  Well,  I  guess  the  walk  must  have  limbered  him  up. 
I  know  the  old  mare  got  limbered  up.  Lost  two  shoes,  broke 
a  trace,  and  sprung  the  hind  ex  of  the  kerriage. 

Dea.  Bully  for  Bets  !  She's  putting  money  in  circulation. 
Mrs.  Fletcher,  hev  you  got  such  a  thing  as  a  dog  muzzle  ?    . 

Han.  Dog  muzzle  !  Let  me  see.  1  think  we  have,  but 
I'm  blessed  if  I  know  where  Zeke  keeps  'em.  Bets  would 
know.  I  wonder  where  she  is.  Bets  !  {^Enter  Myra,  c.) 
Good-mornin',  Myra.     How's  mother? 

Myra.     Better,  thank  you.     Is  there  any  mail  for  us? 

{Goes  L.) 

Han.     I  don't  know,  Myra,  j^t  look  'em  over  and  see. 

._;|-i?vA.  ^      (IVIyra  goes  behind  post-office  boxes.) 

Dea.  Ef  there's  anything  for  me  there,  Myre,  jest  hand  it 
out. 

MvR.\.     All  right,  deacon. 

Han.     Dog  muzzle.     Let  me  see. 

Myra.  Mrs.  Fletcher,  how  long  has  Bets  been  ridi*^^- 
bicycle  ? 

Han.     Didn't  know  she  ever  rode  one. 

Myra.     I  just  met  her  down  the  road  on  one. 

Han.  Land's  sake  !  That's  where  she  is.  A  gentleman 
left  his  bicycle  here  last  night  to  be  fixed  and  she's  appropri- 
ating it. 

Zeke  (outside').  Whoa  !  Gol  darn  you  !  You  needn't  feel 
so  pesky  kittenish  jest  cos  you've  got  a  new  pair  o'  shoes  on. 

Dea.     Here  comes  Zeke  now. 

Zeke  (outside).  Whoa,  I  tell  you;  you  needn't  be  so  darn 
proud  of  'em,  the  neighbors  '11  find  it  out  soon  enough.  ^ 

Enter  Zeke.  ^ 

Zeke.  That  old  mare  o'  mine's  for  all  the  world  like  a 
woman.  She's  got  a  new  pair  o'  shoes  on  and  she's  been 
showing  'em  off  as  ef  she'd  gone  barefoot  all  her  life.  How 
do.  Miss  Myra.  What  yer  doing  of?  Helping  yourself  to 
the  United  States  mail?  Jest  leave  what  you  don't  want,  and 
we'll  pass  'em  round  among  the  other  inhabitants  of  this  ere 
town. 


DOWN    EAST.  5 

Han.  Don't  blame  her,  Zeke.  If  you'd  stay  here  and  tend 
to  your  own  business,  mebbe  folks  wouldn't  have  to  sort  their 
own  mail. 

Zeke.  I  left  Bets  here.  Where  is  she  now,  breaking  up 
more  teams  and  harness  ? 

Han.     No,  it's  bicycles  this  time. 

Zeke.  Great  Scott !  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  she's  taken 
that  chap's  bicycle  !  It'll  be  her  own  neck  this  time.  {Shout 
outside?)  What's  that?  {Goes  to  door.)  By  Jehosaphat,  here 
she  comes  down  the  hill  lick-a-de-split.  {Lively  music. ) 

Han.  She's  steering  straight  for  the  horse  trough.  Look 
out! 

Dea.     She's  going  into  it. 

Zeke.  Look  out,  pull  on  your  nigh  rein.  Look  out ! 
{Crash  outside  ;  Han.  screams  and  faints  in  Dea.'s  arms,  l.) 
She's  broken  her  neck.  {Comes  down  and  sits  on  kegy  r.)  I 
knew  she  would. 

Myra.     No  !     Only  the  bicycle.     Here  she  comes. 

Zeke.     Is  she  alive  ? 

Enter  Bets  with  bicycle  in  two  pieces.     She  is  a  wreck. 

Bets.     You  bet  I  am.     It  takes  more'n  that  to  kill  me. 

{Gives  bicycle  to  Zeke.) 

Han.     You — you  mischievous  imp — ^just  look  at  your  dress. 

Bets.     It's  right  in  style  for  my  next  ride — a  divided  skirt. 

Zeke.  Look  at  that  bicycle  tnat  I  stayed  up  all  night  try- 
ing to  fix. 

Bets.     Don't  get  excited,  there's  plenty  of  glue  in  the  shop. 

Zeke.  Yes,  and  there's  plenty  of  string  if  you'd  broken 
your  neck. 

Bets.  Did  you  see  me  come  down  that  hill  ?  Phew  !  I 
thought  I  was  coming  by  telegraph.  I  was  going  all  right  till 
the  critter  spied  that  horse  trough. 

Zeke.     Critter,  what  critter? 

^T7-c      Why,  tiie  bicycle,  when  it  saw  that  trough. 

HIlY^^.     Nonsense,  child,  the  machine  can't  see. 

Bets.  Well,  then  it  smelt  it.  Anyway  it  knew  the  trough 
was  there  for  it  made  straight  for  it. 

Zeke.     Well,  it  stopped  when  it  got  there. 

Bets.  Yes,  but  I  didn't.  I  kept  straight  on.  All  of  a 
sudden  I  noticed  I  didn't  have  any  bicycle  under  me. 

Zeke.     No,  but  the  ground  was  there. 

Bets.  It's  a  good  thing  it  was,  or  I'd  gone  clear  through  to 
China,     If  you  ever  want  to  make  a  statue  of  me,  you'll  find 


O  DOWN    EAST. 

my  mould  out  there  in  the  mud  about  twenty-five  feet  this  side 
of  the  trough. 

Zeke.  We  may  want  to  make  a  statue  to  put  on  your  head- 
stone if  you  ride  any  more  bicycles.  Look  at  that.  I  told 
that  chap  last  night  that  I  could  fix  it.  All  the  trouble  was  a 
spike  through  the  rubber  that  let  the  air  out.  I  just  cut  the 
hole  a  little  bigger,  filled  the  tube  with  bran  instead  of  air, 
sewed  the  hole  up  and  thought  I  had  it  fixed.  Now  what  '11  I 
say  to  him  ? 

Bets.  Tell  him  you  found  a  weak  spot  and  broke  it  a  pur- 
pose so's  he  wouldn't  break  his  neck. 

Zeke.  That  wheel's  gone  beyond  repair.  I'll  have  to  take 
the  wheel  off  'n  my  bran  new  wheelbarrow  to  replace  it. 

\_Extt  with  bicycle f  R.  u.  e. 

Han.  Bets,  you  know  where  the  dog  muzzles  are.  Get 
one  for  Deacon  Perkins.  [^Exit  r.  u.  e. 

Bets.     All  right ! 

(^Gets  tape  measure  and  measures  his  face  ^  Deacon  sitting 
on  barrel.^* 

Dea.     What's  that  for? 

Bets.  I'm  trying  to  find  out  what  size  you  take.  Hold 
still.  Do  you  want  your  whiskers  to  go  inside  or  to  hang 
through  ? 

Dea.     It  isn't  for  me,  you  young  jackanapes. 

Bets.     Who's  it  for,  your  wife?     I  don't  blame  you. 

Dea.  No,  my  dog.  Something's  the  matter  with  him;  he 
keeps  snapping  at  things. 

Bets.  Say,  deacon,  have  you  been  trying  your  sermons  on 
him? 

Dea.     I've  tried  everything  I  know  of. 

Bets.     Why  don't  you  try  a  square  meal  ? 

Dea.  You  get  me  that  dog  muzzle  and  stop  your  shenan- 
igin. 

Bets.     All  right,  deacon  !     Here  you  go.     (  Gives  ri^\.^^_ 

Dea.     Charge  it.     If  it  don't  fit,  I'll  bring  it  back.    \Exit  o,. 

Bets.  Oh,  never  mind  !  It  might  fit  one  of  the  children. 
{At  desk.)  Charge  it.  Let  me  see,  I  forgot  the  price,  but  I 
guess  two  dollars  will  cover  it. 

Mvra.  It's  very  strange  that  I  don't  get  a  letter.  {Comifig 
from  behind  counter. ) 

Bets.  Yes,  it  is  very  strange.  Perhaps  it's  because  no  one 
has  written  to  you. 

Mvra.     Oh,  yes,  he  must  have  written. 


)g<,,<rr     ffi     ^   -i^^^ 


DOWN    EAST.  7 

Bets.  He!  Which  he?  What  he?  Who  he?  Charley 
Desmond  ? 

Myra.  Charley  Desmond.  No !  A  gentleman  named 
Thorne.     An  acquaintance  I  made  in  New  York  last  winter. 

Bets  {aside),  Thorne.  I'll  bet  it's  the  fellow  that  left  the 
bicycle  to  be  fixed.  Well,  when  he  sees  it  now  it'll  be  a 
thorn  in  his  side.  (^Aloud.)  I  thought  you  were  engaged  to 
Charley  Desmond.  I  don't  see  what  business  other  fellows 
have  writing  to  you.     Ain't  one  enough  at  a  time? 

Myra.  It  might  be  for  you,  but  I  like  a  little  adventure. 
You  couldn't  blame  me  if  you  saw  him.  He's  a  picture,  and 
he's  dead  in  love  with  me. 

Bets.     Who,  Charley  Desmond  ? 

Myra.  No,  the  other  fellow.  Charley  Desmond  indeed  ! 
A  countryman  who'll  never  rise  above  the  level  of  a  village 
lout.  And  to  think  my  father  was  fool  enough  to  want  me  to 
marry  such  a  loadstone.     (^Crosses  r.). 

Bets  (coming  c).  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  talk  that  way  of 
him.  He's  a  good,  honest  fellow.  There  isn't  an  out  about 
him  unless  it's  his  elbows  and  knees.  But  it  isn't  the  clothes 
that  make  the  man,  it's  the  grub  he  eats.  Joking  aside,  every- 
body thinks  you  are  engaged,  and  if  his  future  wife  shouldn't 
speak  well  of  him,  who  should  ? 

Myra.  His  future  wife  !  The  very  thought  makes  me  sick 
at  heart. 

Char,   (outside).     Whoa,  Emma  ! 

Bets.     Here  he  comes  now. 

(Bets  crosses  l.     Enter  Char.,  c.) 

Char.     Good-morning ! 

Bets.     Hullo,  Charley  !     Speak  of  the  evil  one,  you  know. 

Char.  Thanks  !  So  you  were  speaking  of  me.  What  was 
it,  Myra,  good  or  bad  ? 

Myra^-^  It  couldn't  be  good,  if  it  was  about  your  actions 
latelv.^-^Cr^j-j-^i-  up  (Z.) 

Char.  Goodness  gracious  !  What  have  I  been  doing  now  ? 
It  seems  to  me  you're  taking  me  to  task  a  great  deal  of  late. 
What's  it  all  about? 

Myra.  Oh,  nothing  !  I'm  not  your  keeper  or  your  mother- 
in-law.  If  you're  too  obtuse  to  see  your  own  faults,  just  listen 
to  the  village  gossips  and  learn.  [^Exit  c. 

Char,   (throws  down  bag).     There's  the  noon  mail.  Bets. 

Bets  (emptying  bag  behind  post  office).  You  don't  seem  to 
be  very  down-hearted  by  what  your  future  wife  just  said. 


VSkA^'Y-i^JlM  i^ti O^^i^^  Cn^  C 


8  DOWN    EAST. 


Char.  No  !  Whatever  her  suspicions,  they're  unjust;  that^ 
satisfies  me  in  my  own  conscience.  She's  a  good  girl,  but  I 
wish  she'd  reserve  her  lectures  until  we're  alone. 

Bets  {aside).  See  the  difference  between  them.  He  won't 
say  a  word  against  her.  {Aloud.)  When  are  you  going  to  be 
married,  Charley?  /       o      c 

Char.  I  don't  know.  It  seems  to  be  getting  farther  and 
farther  away.    . 

Bets.  Yes,  like  flying  a  kite,  only  it's  hard  to  tell  who's 
holdmg  the  strmg.     Look  out  it  doesn't  break  altogether. 

Char.  Or  some  mischievous  person  come  between  and 
cut  it. 

Bets.     Would  you  feel  very  bad  ? 

Char.     I  don't  know. 

Bets  {aside).  I  wish  I  could  find  out  if  he's  stuck  on  her. 
(^Leaning  on  counter.)  It's  strange  that  your  father  and  her 
father  should  have  been  so  sot  on  the  idea  of  your  marrying. 

Char.  Yes,  it  is  strange.  Sounds  like  a  chapter  out  of  a 
story,  don't  it  ? 

Wash  {outside).     Peck  of  potatoes  and  a  bag  of  flour. 
Enters  c.  and  repeats  several  times  to  himself. 

Bets.     Hullo,  Wash,  what  makes  you  look  so  pale? 

Wash.  I've  been  running.  I  was  in  a  hurry  so  I  wouldn't 
forget  what  I  was  sent  for. 

Bets.     And  what  is  it  ? 

Wash.     A  bag  of  potatoes  and  a  peck  of  flour. 

Bets.     You're  twisted ;  you  mean  the  other  way. 

Wash.  What,  a  bag  of  flour  and  a  peck  of  potatoes  ?  No, 
I  don't;  I  said  it  all  the  way  down,  so's  I  wouldn't  forget  it;  a 
bag  of  potatoes  and  a  peck  of  flour. 

Bets.  We  don't  sell  flour  by  the  peck.  You  are  twisted. 
{Enter  Zeke,  r.  u.  e.  )     Ain't  he,  dad  ? 

Zeke.  What  is  it?  I  reckon  I  can  take  the  tw^^  out.  I 
took  It  out  of  that  bicycle,  so's  it's  just  as  good  as  ne\v^C^ 

Wash.     I  want  a  bag  of  potatoes  and  a  peck  of  floor!      "     ^ 
Zeke.     You  go  back  home  and  ask  'em  if  that's  right. 
Wash.     Three   miles?     Say,   I   think   you're   fooling  me. 
ii  I  find  out  I'm  right  I'll  boycott  dis  place. 

r-  117  11    T  ,  iExit  c,  grumbling. 

Char.     Well,  I  must  be  going.     {Crosses  up  c.) 
Zeke.     Don't  be  in  a  hurry,  Charley. 

Char.  I've  got  the  mail  bag  for  the  Corners,  and  they'll 
have  my  scalp  if  I  don't  move  along.     Au  revoir,         \Ex'it  c. 


DOWN    EAST.  9 

Bets.  Bon  soir !  Say,  dad,  why  is  he  going  to  marry 
Myra  Bigelow?     Do  you  think  he's  stuck  on  her? 

Zeke.     Stuck  on  her  ? 

Bets.     Yes,  sweet  on  her. 

Zeke.  Oh  !  Well,  I  don't  know  about  that,  but  her  father 
and  his  father  were  very  chummy,  and  they  patched  up  some 
sort  of  a  bargain  to  have  the  youngsters  marry.  Her  father 
has  been  dead  these  long  years,  and  I  suppose  his  father's 
anxious  to  carry  it  out  on  that  account. 

Bets.     But  where's  his  father? 

Zeke.  Chicago,  I  believe.  Been  West  for  years.  Pretty 
well  fixed  too,  I  hear ;  at  least  so  Jonas  says. 

Bets.  Don't  you  think  it  best  to  let  people  choose  their  own 
wives  and  husbands? 

Zeke.  Yes  !  I  did,  so'd  your  ma,  and  a  pretty  mess  we 
made  of  it  too. 

Bets.     You  don't  mean  that,  dad.     . 

Zeke.  Well,  I  s'pose  I  don't ;  the  old  woman's  good  enough, 
but  she's  got  such  an  all-fired  habit  of  having  opinions  of  her 
own. 

£nfer  Ralph,  c. 

Ralph.     Now,  my  friend,  have  you  repaired  my  bicycle? 

Zeke,  Yes,  sir,  it's  as  good  as  new,  in  fact  it's  better,  for 
now  it's  tried  and  tested. 

Bets  (aside).  No  wonder  I  couldn't  work  it.  See  what 
long  legs  he's  got. 

Ralph.     What's  the  damage?     {Puts  hand  in  pocket?) 

TjY.y.y..     Oh,  it  wasn't  damaged  much. 

Ralph.     I  mean  your  charge  for  repairs. 

Zeke.     Oh,  we'll  make  that  all  right — say  about  five  dollars. 

Ralph.     Five  dollars  !   I'm  not  buying  a  new  one. 

Zeke.     Nqj  but  you  may  have  to. 

Ralph. ^  /Five  dollars  is  exorbitant — an  imposition. 

^■iiEi  itiVell,  I  may  shave  it  a  little.  How  would  fifty 
cents  strike  you? 

Ralph.     That's  more  like  it. 

Zeke.     Come  out  here  and  see  what  you  think  of  the  job. 

\_Exeunt  both,  r.  u.  e 

Bets.  I'll  bet  that's  the  fellow  Myra  expects  the  letter 
from.  I  wonder  if  it's  in  this  mail.  {Looks  them  over.) 
Yes,  here  it  is ;  and  here's  a  letter  for  Charley  from  Chicago. 
Phew  !  but  it's  a  big  one.  Looks  like  the  kind  dad  gets  from 
Washington.     What  he  calls  official  business, 


10  DOWN    EAST.  • 

Jonas  {outside).     Whoa ! 

Bets.  Here  comes  Charley's  uncle — the  worst  old  skinflint 
in  town.  I  wish  he'd  sit  down  on  that  keg;  I'd  like  to  upset 
these  cans  on  him.     {Hides  behind  counter?) 

Enter  Jonas  c.     A  soft,  oily,  hypocritical  character ,  with 
strong  nasal  twang. 

Jonas.  No  one  here.  I  wonder  if  the  letter  for  Charles 
has  arrived  yet.  I'd  give  a  good  deal  to  intercept  it.  {Goes 
toward  post  office,  y 

Enter  Ralph,  r.  u.  e. 

Ralph.     Ah  !  Mr.  Desmond  ! 

Jonas.     Oh  Mr.  Thorne  !     How  you  frightened  me. 

Ralph.     Well,  have  you  any  news  for  me  ? 

Jonas.     What  kind  of  news  ? 

Ralph.  Regarding  Myra.  I  wrote  her  last  night  asking 
her  to  be  ready  to  fly  with  me  to-day.  I  told  her  to  send  the 
answer  by  you. 

Jonas.  I  don't  think  she  could  have  received  the  letter. 
You  can  rest  assured  though  that  she  is  ready  and  willing  to 
go.  I  have  pumped  her  on  the  subject,  and  her  head  is  com- 
pletely turned. 

Ralph.  Poor  little  fool !  Well,  I'll  turn  it  back  for  her. 
Every  girl  should  have  a  little  experience,  and  if  they  have  it 
early  in  life,  they'll  settle  down  all  the  quicker.  Here  is  the 
plan  I  propose.  I'll  ride  over  to  Milton  on  my  bicycle.  You 
bring  her  in  your  carriage.  There  we  can  take  the  train,  and 
no  one  will  know  us  as  it's  ten  miles  from  here. 

Jonas.     I'll  do  it.     When  do  you  start? 

Ralph.     Just  as  soon  as  my  machine  is  oiled. 

Jonas.  Good  !  I'll  follow  in  five  minutes.  \  My  team  is 
standing  at  the  door  now.  \ 

Ralph.     But  why  do  you  take  such  an  interest  itv.tl^s^. 

Jonas.     I  don't  want  her  to  marry  my  nephew.  " 

Ralph.     Isn't  she  worthy? 

Jonas.     Yes,  but  he  isn't  worthy  of  her. 

Ralph.  Come,  tell  that  to  the  marines;  what's  your  true 
object  ? 

Jonas.  Well,  I  don't  mind  telling  you.  His  father,  my 
brother,  died  lately,  leaving  a  fortune.  If  he  marries  her  be- 
fore a  year  is  up  he  inherits;  if  he  doesn't,  the  money  comes  to 
me. 

vk^^yyiK  ^YIaAm  ^  fe  Jt?  (/H   C 
W/t^^  ^K^/^  ^  7^  Qo  (Ai   C 


Q^yu<jx^    YL^^^dM  /\down  east.  II 

Ralph.  Oh  !  I  see.  Well,  old  man,  you  may  count  on  the 
money,  and  if  I'm  ever  hard  up,  I'll  touch  you. 

Enter  Zeke,  r.  u.  e. 

Zeke.     Your  machine's  all  ready.     I  used  the  best  axkr 
grease  on  the  market.  ^^^^.^^^^^"^ 

Ralph.  All  right !  (^Exit  Zeke,  r.  u.  E^.-'d^on't  go  the 
same  way  I  do ;  I'll  take  the  turnpike.^^,^-'^''''^ 

Jonas.     All  right !     I'll  see  yop^-efT  \^Exit  both^  r. 

Bets.  Well !  there's  apak^  beauts.  Here's  his  letter  to 
her.  By  Jiminy,  he  iefgot  to  seal  it.  {Takes  letter  out?) 
Shall  I  give  it  to4»Bflf7  No  !  I'll  save  her  if  I  can.  Let  me  see. 
Thorne  is  to  ride  to  Milton  on  his  wheel  and  Jonas  is  to  take 
Myra  in  his  carriage.  {Goes  to  c.  door.)  Oh  !  If  that  horse 
would  only  drop  dead.  I  hope  to  goodness  dad '11  make  a 
wreck  of  the  bicycle.  This  letter  I'll  keep  for  the  present. 
Some  day,  if  she  gets  over  her  craze  for  this  fellow,  I'll  show 
it  to  her.  She'll  thank  me  then  as  much  as  she'd  blame  me 
now.  What  shall  I  do  with  the  envelope  ?  I  have  it.  (  Goes 
to  desk.)  Her  mother's  grocery  bill.  {Laughs,  puts  bill  in 
envelope  and  seals  it.)  I'd  like  to  see  her  face  when  she  opens 
f\     it.     {Goes  behind  t)ost  office.) 


\jijL  upf<Mym^ 


Enter  Myra,  c. 


Myra.     Oh,  Bets  !  has  the  mail  been  sorted  ? 
Bets.     Yes,  long  ago,  and  I  think  there's  one  for  you;  yes, 
there  it  is.     {Gives  it.) 

Myra.     Good !     His  handwriting. 

Enter  Wash,  as  before. 

Wash.  I  got  it  right  dis  time  fo  suah,  a  bag  of  flour  and  a 
peck  of  potatoes.  \^Exit  Myka^;^ 

Bets.     Are  yon  dead  sure  ?  ^^v5ot>^ 

/^<^?ffv     r-Jad  sure  for  certain.  ^f«  iTKri 

Bets.     I  don't  believe  it.     You'd  better  go  back  again.  /^  jg- 
Wash.     I  won't  do  it.  ^-^ 

(Ralph  rides  by  c.  door  on  bicycle,) 

Bets  {aside).  There  he  goes.  {Aloud.)  I'll  bet  you  a 
dollar  you're  wrong ;  go  back  and  see. 

Wash.     It's  a  go  for  a  dollar.     I'll  prove  it. 

Bets.  Take  that  team  at  the  door  and  ride  the  longest  way. 
{Work  up  quickly.) 


12  DOWN    EAST.  -^ 

Wash.     Dat  Jonas  Desmond's,  he'd  kill  me. 
Bets.     No,  he  won't.     He  said  I  could  use  it  any  time  I 
wanted ;  take  it  and  ride  for  your  life. 

Wash.     All  right ;   you're  to  blame.  l£xit. 

Bets.     Hurray  !     Now  let's  see  them  elope. 

(^Noise  of  whip  and  carriage  ;  enter  Jonas,  rutis  to  c.    Bets 
runs  behind  counter?) 

Jonas.     Who's  that  with  my  team?     Here,   come  back; 
that's  my  team. 

Ejiter  Myra,  c. 

Myra.     Mr.  Desmond,  what  does  this  mean  ?     See,  this  is 
his  letter  to  me. 

Jonas  (taking  if).     A  grocery  bill !     There's  trickery  here. 

{Starts  up  c.  and  runs  into  Zeke,  who  enters  with  boxes  in 
hand ;  they  all  fall  on  Jonas,  who  staggers  and  sits  on 
keg  near  counter.      Bets  jumps  on  counter  with  flour 
scoop  and  pours  flour  on  him.     Myra  <^i'i>w -fit.,  sobbing. j^ 
Enter  Hannah,  r.) 


CURTAIN. 


■ 


ACT  11. 

SCENE. — Desmond  Homestead.  Landscape  hacking  ;  cottage 
L.,  woodshed's:..,  chopping-block  and  wood  R.  c,  log  down  R. 
Wash  discovered  chopping  wood  and  singing. 

Wash.  I  never  saw  such  hard  wood  in  all  my  life.  Tears 
to  me  when  Jonas  Desmond  hires  me  to  chop  wood  for  him,  he 
does  something  to  make  it  hard.  It's  just  like  him,  anyhow. 
He's  de  meanest  man  in  town  anyway.  Hyar  I've  chopped 
dat  ar  woodshed  full,  and  all  I  git  for  it  is  one  dollar.  Ought 
to  git  two  anyhow.  Neber  mind  !  If  he  don't  give  me  two 
he'll  find  de  balance  missing  in  chicken  some  fine  morning. 
I've  taken  an  observation  of  his  chicken-coop,  and  I  knows  all 
the  bearings.  I  know  just  which  perch  de  fattest  ones  roost 
on,  so's  I  kin  put  my  hand  on  'em  in  de  dark.  (^Enter  Jonas 
from  house.^     Oh,  lor  !  I  wonder  if  I've  been  tinking  aloud. 

Jonas.  Haven't  you  got  that  wood  all  chopped  yet?  Or 
do  you  think  you're  going  to  get  another  dinner  out  of  it? 

Wash.  No,  sir  !  I  didn't  like  your  dinner  yesterday,  so  I 
guess  I  won't  stop  to-day,  thank  you. 

Jonas.  Oh,  you  didn't,  eh  ?  Well,  the  next  time  you  come 
I'll  engage  a  French  chef. •    What  didn't  you  like  about  it? 

Wash.  Well,  sir,  to  begin  wid,  de  taters  wasn't  mealy, 
and  de  baked  beans  didn't  have  lasses  enough  to  'em.  Den 
you  didn't  have  any  dessert  to  top  off  wid.  I  always  like  a 
little  dessert,  say,  for  instance,  a  nice  piece  of  watermillion. 

Jonas.  Well,  you  impudent  nigger,  the  next  time  you'll  get 
a  nice  piece  of  my  shoe  leather.     Hurry  up  with  that  wood. 

Wash.     All  done,  sir  !     Shall  I  make  out  a  bill? 

Jonas.  No!  here's  the  dollar  I  promised  you.  {Gives 
silver  dollar. ^ 

^    --^  mDic  ch   -^gji^'t   a   dollar;     it's   only   fifty-three   cents. 
Where's^^^^^^^-^S? 

Jonas.  The  rest  you  owe  me  for  the  ride  you  took  in  my 
team  yesterday.     (^Sits  l.  and  enters  the  account  in  book.) 

Wash.  Oh,  say,  Mr.  Desmond,  dat  ain't  right.  Bets 
Fletcher  was  to  blame  fur  dat.  She  tole  me  to  take  your  horse, 
she  did. 

Jonas.  I  know  she  did.  I'll  settle  with  her  later.  Get  out 
of  here  now  or  I'll  set  the  dog  on  you. 


14  DOWN    EAST. 

Wash  {goes  upK.),  Dat's  a  clear  case  of  bunco.  {Aside.) 
Never  mind,  I'll  fix  him  fur  it.  {Rooster  crows  outside.') 
Yes,  you're  the  fellow  dat'll  make  up  the  difference.  I'll  be 
around  to  see  you  'bout  twelve  o'clock  to-night.    \^Exit,  r.  u.  e. 

Jonas.  What's  to  be  done  ?  I  must  get  that  pair  of  young 
fools  married.  I  was  thwarted  yesterday,  but  I'll  not  give  up 
the  game  so  easily,  for  it  means  fifty  thousand  dollars  to  me. 
I  suspect  my  nephew  had  something  to  do  with  that  letter.  He 
is  the  most  interested  party.  {Enter  Charles,  r.  u.  e.)  Oh, 
Charles  !  got  your  mail  delivered  ? 

Char.  Yes,  uncle.  {About  to  exit  in  house  ;  Jonas  crosses 
to  R.) 

Jonas.  Charles,  do  you  know  the  penalty  for  meddling 
with  the  United  States  mails  ? 

Char.  No  !  It  doesn't  interest  me.  Something  heavy,  I 
presume.  I  get  paid  for  carrying  them  from  the  train  to  the 
offices;  that's  all  I  know  about  them.     Why  do  you  ask? 

Jonas.  Oh,  nothing  !  I  suspect  a  certain  letter  was  opened 
and  the  contents  extracted,  that's  all. 

Char.     You  don't  suspect  me? 

Jonas.     Oh,  bless  you,  no  ! 

Char.     Then  why  did  you  speak  to  me  about  it  ? 

Jonas.     Oh,  a  warning,  that's  all. 

Char.  You  may  keep  your  warnings  to  yourself.  Uncle 
Jonas.     I  don't  need  them.  \_Exit  in  house. 

Jonas.  Young  puppy  !  But  I'll  bring  him  down.  {Enter 
Ralph  Thorne,  l.  u.  e.)     Ah,  Mr.  Thorne ! 

Ralph.  Well,  a  nice  botch  you  made  of  things  yesterday, 
and  a  pretty  fool  I  looked  waiting  four  hours  for  you. 

Jonas.  It  couldn't  be  helped.  My  plans  miscarried. 
When  she  received  your  letter,  it  contained  nothing  but  a 
grocer's  bill. 

Ralph.  A  grocer's  bill !  Then  my  letter^ was  tampered 
with,  and  somebody  knows  our  secret.     Whatv=*^^,:;  done? 

Jonas.     Make  new  plans.     I  expect  Myra '  '^^    ^  ^  '^ee  n;e^ . 
at  any  moment.     Poor  girl  !  she  is  sorely  disix^. 

Ralph.  She  has  some  busybody  working  in  ner  interest — 
they  will  tell  her  mother  all.  Depend  upon  it.  She'll  be  kept 
under  surveillance  and  my  best  plan  is  to  decamp. 

Jonas.     Will  you  give  up  a  wife  so  easily  ? 

Ralph.  Wife  !  Who  said  anything  about  making  her  my 
wife? 

Jonas.     Why,  I  thought 

Ralph.     You  thought  too  much. 


DOWN    EAST.  15 

Jonas.  Then  if  you  don't  intend  to  marry  her,  I'll  have 
nothing  more  to  do  with  the  affair.     (^Crosses  l.) 

Ralph.  Oh,  yes  you  will.  Having  gone  so  far,  you'll  con- 
tinue. You'll  do  this  for  your  own  sake ;  for  if  I  drop  her,  she 
will  marry  your  nephew  and  you  lose  a  fortune. 

Jonas.  But  she  must  be  married.  If  you  simply  elope 
with  her,  she  might  get  sick  of  her  bargain,  or  you  might. 

Ralph.     Probably  I'd  be  the  one  to  tire  first. 

Jonas.  Yes,  then  she'd  return  and  the  fool  might  marry 
her  even  then.  So  to  place  her  beyond  his  reach,  she  must  be 
married. 

Ralph.  Oh  !  then  you  get  the  money  if  he  fails  to  marry 
her.  The  will  doesn't  provide  for  the  possibility  of  her  marry- 
ing another  ? 

Jonas.  Exactly !  there's  the  weak  point.  I  think  my 
brother  must  have  been  insane  when  he  made  it. 

Ralph.     How  much  money  is  there  at  stake? 

Jonas.     Why  do  you  ask  ? 

Ralph.  I  was  thinking  perhaps  if  you  made  it  an  object  I 
might  marry  her.     {Sits  r.,  lighting  cigarette?) 

Jonas.     How  much  of  an  object  ? 

Ralph.  A  good  stiff  one.  I'm  almost  broke  and  require  a 
stake. 

Jonas.     Would  ten  thousand  dollars  tempt  you  ? 

Ralph.  Yes,  it  would  tempt  me,  but  I  think  I  could  resist 
the  temptation.  Now  if  you  offered  twenty  thousand  I  cer- 
tainly should  yield. 

Jonas.  Twenty  thousand  !  Why,  man,  his  father  wasn't  a 
millionaire ;  what  will  there  be  left  for  me  ? 

Ralph.  That  doesn't  concern  me.  I  merely  mention  the 
smallest  figure  that  might  tempt  me  to  fall  from  grace  and 
deaden  my  conscience  to  the  extent  of  marrying.  Perhaps 
you  do  not  know  the  sacrifice  I  would  make  by  marrying.  I 
would  be  no  longer  a  free  agent,  for,  try  as  you  will,  a  wife  will 
becp'ile  'more  or  less  familiar  with  your  private  affairs.  Be- 
sides my  business  would  be  hampered. 

Jonas.     Business  !  I  didn't  know  you  were  in  business. 

Ralph.     What  did  you  think  I  lived  on — air  ? 

Jonas.     Is  your  business  successful  ? 

Ralph.  Yes.  Sometimes.  At  all  events,  it's  a  money 
making  business. 

Jonas.     Would  you  mind  telling  me  in  what  line  it  is  ? 

Ralph.  Well,  at  present,  it's  in  the  matrimonial  line. 
Come,  Desmond,  I  don't  know  what  the  principal  is;  but  I'll 


^^^A^^^dus  ^^^  ^\ 


1 6  DOWN    EAST. 

take  chances  on  my  commission  at  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
(^Crosses  L.) 

Jonas.     Is  that  the  least  you'll  take? 

Ralph.  Oh,  I  couldn't  think  of  doing  it  for  less.  Besides, 
it  may  cost  half  that  for  a  divorce,  so  you  see  I  wouldn't  net 
much  after  all. 

Jonas.  Well,  then,  it's  a  bargain.  Now  we  can  work 
openly.     She  is  of  age  to-day  and  can  marry  you  at  once. 

Ralph.  But  first  we'll  draw  up  a  little  paper  with  figures 
and  signatures  on  it. 

Char,  {inside).     Uncle  Jonas,  is  that  Mr.  Fletcher  ? 

Jonas  (crosses  l.).  No  !  it's  a  stranger.  You'd  better 
take  a  walk  up  the  road,  he  may  come  out.  I'll  send  Myra  to 
you  when  she  comes. 

Ralph.  All  right;  and  while  strolling,  I'll  think  up  the 
legal  phraseology  for  that  little  paper.  \Exit  l.  u.  e. 

Jonas.  I'd  like  to  know  what  his  business  is ;  something 
crooked,  I'll  be  bound.  Twenty  thousand  dollars  !  It's  a 
good  deal,  but,  as  he  says,  only  a  commission ;  agents  must  be 
paid  something.     {Enter  Myra,  r.  u.  e.)     Ah,  my  dear. 

Myra.  Oh,  Mr.  Desmond,  have  you  no  consolation  to  offer 
me ;  have  you  heard  from  Ralph  ? 

Jonas.  Yes,  my  dear,  dry  your  pretty  eyes ;  you  shall  see 
your  Romeo  soon. 

Myra.  I  thought  he  would  have  been  angry  with  disap- 
pointment and  leave  me  for  good ;  then  I  should  have  been 
forced  into  this  hateful  marriage  with  your  nephew.  {Enter 
Char.)  My  mother  is  constantly  urging  me  to  accomplish  it. 
Is  there  no  way  to  escape  it  ? 

Char.  Yes  !  there  is,  for  I  now  know  your  heart.  I  would 
not  marry  you,  if  our  fathers  rose  from  their  graves  to  ask  it. 

Jonas.     You  have  been  listening. 

Char.     Only  to  the  last  few  words. 

Jonas  {aside).  Ah,  then  he  does  not  know  the  bargain  we 
made.     {Crosses  R.)  /"  ^"^    ^"^*^v. 

Myra.  It's  as  well  that  you  have  spoken  as  you  did ;  for 
had  you  remained  silent,  I  should  have  been  forced  to  speak. 

Char.     You  should  have  done  so  long  ago. 

Jonas.     Of  course  you  know  what  you  are  giving  up. 

Char,  {crosses  c).  Yes,  and  so  do  you.  I  am  giving  up 
the  wealth  my  father  toiled  to  save ;  but  it  could  not  purchase 
happiness  if  we  had  made  this  fatal  mistake. 

Jonas.  It's  a  pity  you  could  not  carry  out  your  father's 
wishes. 


DOWN   EAST.  17 

Char.  We  might  have  but  for  you.  You  lost  no  chance  to 
come  between  us  and  foster  the  canker  eating  into  our  hearts, 
r^n't  flatter  yourself  that  I  couldn't  see  it.  With  the  fox's 
cunning  you  have  planted  the  seeds  of  discontent,  magnifying 
our  faults  to  each  other,  working  night  and  day  to  separate  us, 
and  for  what  ?  P'or  the  paltry  gold  that  I  have  lost.  Take  it, 
and  may  it  burn  into  your  very  heart  the  words  hypocrite  and 
traitor. 

Myra.     Charles  Desmond,  you  forget  yourself. 

Char.  For  the  love  of  heaven  don't  listen  to  that  man.  I 
ask  you  in  the  name  of  chastity  and  virtue  to  shun  him  as  you 
would  a  snake.  His  counsels  are  worse  than  the  snake's  in 
Paradise.  We  might  have  been  happy  but  for  him.  Perhaps 
we  might  not  love  as  we  read  of  in  books,  but  by  doing  our 
duty  by  those  who  are  dead  {lifts  hat)  we  should  at  least  be 
obeying  a  commandment  that  says,  ''  Honor  thy  father  and  thy 
mother."  But  all  that  is  over  now  and  through  him.  As  he 
has  told  you  of  my  faults,  so  he  has  told  me  of  yours.  Myra, 
go  back  to  your  mother ;  listen  to  her,  for  she  is  the  young 
girl's  truest  friend.  But  I  implore  you  in  the  name  of  our 
happy  childhood,  don't  listen  to  him.  He  is  all  that's  bad,  a 
second  Judas,  for  he  would  sell  your  soul  for  money. 

Jonas.  Stop,  sir  !  These  are  my  premises,  and  I  shall  not 
allow  such  language  here. 

Char.  Nor  shall  you  hear  it  again.  Fve  slept  for  the  last 
time  beneath  your  roof.  I'he  air  I  breathe  shall  no  longer  be 
poisoned  by  your  presence. 

Myra.     Charles,  don't  speak  so,  I  beg  of  you. 

Char.  Come,  Myra,  come  with  me.  Let  me  take  you  to 
your  mother. 

Myra.     No  !  I  cannot  go.     At  least  not  now. 

Jonas.  Your  grandiloquence  is  wasted.  She  knows  what 
friends  to  trust. 

Char.  I  hope  she  may  when  most  she  needs  a  friend. 
Mvja-,  if  such  a  time  should  ever  come,  do  not  let  pride  stand 
^^1  the  way,  but  come  to  me  as  to  a  brother.  Come  to  me  as 
you  used  when  we  were  playmates,  and  you  will  find  that  the 
little  boy,  who  fought  your  battles  then,  has  but  grown  to  the 
man  who  is  ready  to  fight  them  now.  \^Exit  r.  u.  e. 

(Myra  seated  l.  crying ;  Jonas  hesitates,) 

Jonas.  I — I — Myra,  you  see  the  kind  of  fellow  you  have 
escaped  from  ? 

Myra.     Yes,  I  see  him  now  as  I  should  have  seen  him  be- 


1 8  J)OWN    EAST. 

fore,  and  know  that  I  have  lost  the  truest  heart  that  ever  beat 
in  the  bosom  of  an  honest  man.     (^Crosses  r.  and  sits  on  log.y 

Jonas.     I  can't  make  headway  there  just  now.     I'll  have  to  \ 
let  this  fire  cool  off.     I'll  send  Ralph  to  her  ;  b^yi^at  time  her 
fever  will  subAde,  and  she'll  be  ready  for  the  antidote. 

Enter  'Ei^.T^^^eeting  him  ;  they  eye  each  other  as  they  pass. 

0  Bets{W^s  hmgare^).      I  woncfer  if  I  touched  him.      I 

think  he'd  leave  a  slimy  streak  like  a  snail.  Some  one  ought 
to  step  on  him  and  put  him  out  of  misery.  That  dude  is  up 
the  road  there,  too.  I'll  bet  I  sent  him  on  a  wild  goose  chase 
yesterday.  Ha  !  ha  !  !  Hullo  !  there's  Myra.  There's  more 
mischief  brewing.     Myra  ! 

Myra.     Oh  !     Is  it  you,  Bets  ? 

Bets.  Yes,  only  little  me.  Myra,  there's  a  secret  between 
you  and  a  certain  party  and  I'm  in  it. 

Myra  (rises).     Who  told  you  so? 

Bets.  I  dreamt  it.  I  dreamt  a  stylish,  handsome  fellow 
came  a-sparkin'  you  and  cut  Charley  Desmond  out. 

Myra.     Well,  perhaps  that  much  is  true. 

Bets.  Yes  !  But  there  warn't  nothing  in  the  dream  about 
Charley  blowing  his  brams  out,  or  doing  anything  more  des- 
perate than  taking  a  drink  o'  cider. 

Myra.     What  was  in  your  dream  ? 

Bets.     Well,  the  stylish  chap  didn't  pan  out  well. 

Myra.     What  did  he  do  to  deserve  your  bad  opinion? 

Bets.  It's  what  he  didn't  do  !  He  didn't  marry  you.  He 
just  skipped  with  you  and  let  it  go  at  that. 

Myra.     You're  insulting.     (Crosses  l.) 

Bets.     Can't  help  it,  that  was  the  dream. 

Myra.     There's  something  back  of  all  this. 

Bets.  Yes,  Myra,  there  is,  there  is  my  wish  to  see  you 
happy.  Oh,  promise  me,  Myra,  that  whatever  happens  you 
will  not  go  with  him,  except  as  his  wife. 

Myra.     I  don't  know  what  right  you  have  to  ask  this. 

Bets.  Only  the  right  that  one  good  girl  has  to  see  her  sis- 
ter happy — for  such  we  have  always  been — you  will  promise, 
Myra?     I  ask  it  as  a  special  favor. 

Myra.     Well,  then,  I  promise. 

Bets.     Thank  you.     Now  I  feel  that  you  are  safe. 

Enter  Ralph  and  Jonas,  l.  u.  e. 
Myra.     Ralph  !     {Runs  to  him.) 


c4^  -K^  (^'/(.^^ 


DOWN    EAST.  19 

Ralph.  Well,  Myra,  I  wrote  you  a  letter  yesterday  which 
you  did  not  receive ;  perhaps  this  young  lady  can  tell  us  some- 
thing about  it. 

Jonas.     Yes,  I  believe  she  sometimes  handles  the  mail. 

Bets.  Yes,  you're  a  male  that  I'd  like  to  handle  for  a  while. 
I  bet  I'd  put  a  postmark  on  you.  • 

Ralph.  I  suppose  you  know  there  is  a  penalty  attached  to 
opening  other  people's  letters. 

Bets.     Not  when  they're  unsealed,  mister. 

Ralph  {aside).  Can  I  have  been  so  negligent  ?  {Aloud. ) 
Then  you  do  know  something  about  it  ? 

Bets.  I  didn't  say  I  did.  Thought  you  had  me,  didn't 
you  ?  Supposing  a  letter  falls  out  of  an  envelope  on  to  the 
floor,  and  supposing  a  grocer's  bill  lays  beside  it  on  the  floor, 
how  should  I  know  which  one  fell  out  ? 

Ralph.     Then  you  have  my  letter  ?     Give  it  me. 

Bets.  I  haven't  got  it  here.  Anyway,  you  can't  have  it 
till  I  see  if  you  keep  your  word. 

Ralph.     Then  you  read  it  ? 

Bets.  Certainly  !  That's  what  I  went  to  school  for.  In 
it  you  made  certain  promises  to  Myra  there.  I  just  want  to 
see  if  you  meant  them. 

Ralph.     Myra,  do  you  doubt  me  ? 

Myra.     No,  Ralph,  not  for  a  moment. 

Jonas.  And  if  you  do  {to  Bets)  just  remain  here  for  a 
while  and  you'll  see  something  to  open  your  eyes. 

{^Exit  R.  u  E. 

Bets.  Well,  it  won't  be  you.  I'd  rather  shut  'em  when 
you're  around. 

Ralph.  Come,  Myra.  I've  something  to  say  to  you  in 
private. 

Bets.     Don't  forget  your  promise,  Myra. 

Myra.     Never  fear.     {^Exeunt  Myra  and  Ralph,  l.  u.  e. 

Bets.  What  do  they  mean  ?  I  wonder  if  they're  going  to 
be  married  after  all.  My !  Wouldn't  Charley's  cake  be 
dough.  Well,  if  she  doesn't  marry  Charley  {bus.  of  bracing 
up)  somebody  else  may  have  a  chance  at  him. 

Enter  Char.,  r.  u.  e. 

Bets.     Hullo,  Charley  !  you  just  miised  it. 

Char.     Missed  what? 

Bets.     Seeing  Myra  Bigelow  strut  off  with  another  fellow. 

Char.     Well,  that  wouldn't  interest  me. 

Bets  {puzzled).     Wouldn't  it?  I  thought  it  would. 


20  DOWN    EAST. 

Char.  Did  you?  No?  The  fact  is,  it's  all  over  between 
Myra  and  me.     (6>'/x  R.) 

Bets  {quickfy).  Jiminy !  you  don't  say  so.  (^Changing 
tone.)     1  mean  that's  bad.     (Sits  beside  him.) 

Char.     I  don't  think  so. 

Bets  (joyously).  Don't  you?  Neither  do  I.  Ahem  !  So 
you're  free  now,  eh? 

Char.     Yes,  Bets,  I'm  free. 

Bets.     You  seem  to  be  awful  glum. 

Char.     Well,  I've  had  several  things  to  worry  me  lately. 

Bets.     Yes,  that's  so,  you're  living  with  your  uncle,  for  one. 

Char.  Then  you  mustn't  forget  that  my  father  died  but 
recently. 

Bets.  Oh  !  I  forgot  all  about  the  letter.  (J^ises.)  That 
just  puts  me  in  mind  of  it. 

Char.     What  letter  ?     (J^ises.) 

Bets.  It  came  in  yesterday's  mail  and  I've  been  carrying 
it  around  all  day  to  give  to  you.  Now  you're  going  to  jaw 
me,  ain't  you?     (Gives  letter.) 

Char.  That  depends  on  how  important  it  is.  (Opens  it.) 
From  Ward  and  Clarke,  my  father's  attorneys. 

(Bus.  Bets  looks  over  his  shoulder.  He  perceives  her  and 
moves  across  stage.  She  gradually  comes  back  of  him  and 
looks  again.) 

Char.  Jerusalem !  (Bets  redoubles  attention.  Charles 
winks  at  audience  and  pretends  to  read.)  ^^  My  dear  sir  : — If 
there  is  a  young  lady  in  your  vicinity  named  Bets  Fletcher, 
she's  wanted  by  our  local  police  for  shop  lifting." 

Bets.     Where  does  it  say  that  ? 

Char,  (laughs  ;  Bets  sees  that  she  is  caught).  Just  a  little 
curious,  aren't  you.  Bets  ? 

Bets.     I  can't  help  it.     It's  my  mother's  fault. 
,Char.     Well,  sit  down  here  and  you  shall  hear  it.     (They 
sit  on  log  R.     He  reads  letter.) 

^^  Charles  Desmond.  Dear  Sir: — We  take  pleasure  in  in- 
forming you  that  a  new  will  has  been  found,  and  that  it  is  be- 
yond doubt  the  last  testament  of  your  father.  He  has  revoked 
the  clause  about  your  marriage  to  Miss  Bigelow,  and  by  the 
terms  of  it,  you  inherit  his  entire  fortune  unconditionally. ' ' 

Bets.     Phew ! 

Char.  *^We  have  sent  you  by  express  negotiable  bonds 
and  stocks  to  the  extent  of  five  thousand  dollars  to  pay  imme- 
diate expenses,  and  would  advise  your  presence  here  to  settle 


DOWN    EAST.  21 

the  estate.     Yours  truly,  Ward  and  Clarke."     Dear  old  gover- 
nor !  bless  his  memory. 

Bets.     Hooray  !  Tiger  !  !     {Both  rise.^ 

Char.     I'm  off  to  the  express  office.     (^Going  r.) 

Bets.     You're  not  going  to  jaw  me. 

Char.  No  1  I  feel  so  happy  I  could  kiss  you.  (^Kisses  her 
and  starts  off.^ 

Bets.  Oh,  say  !  You  did  that  so  sudden  I  hardly  got  the 
flavor  of  it. 

Char,  {kisses  her).  Bless  you,  Bets,  stay  here  till  I  come 
back.     I'll  fly.  \_Exit  r.  u.  e.  ^jA/ 

Bets.     What  a  pity  a  kiss  is  such  a  short  thing,  but  the  ^f-^jTy 
feet  lasts  a  long  time.     Why,  what  am  I  doing — falling  in  love^*^> 
with  Charley  ?     Why,  he'll  be  a  rich  man  and  never  waste  a  /(c#X. 
thought  on  me.  (T^  / 

Enter  Zeke  and  Jonas,  r.  u.  e. 

Zeke.  You  say  you've  got  her  mother's  consent. 
Jonas.     Yes  !  yes. 

Zeke.  Then  why  don't  she  attend  the  wedding? 
Jonas.     You  know  she's  an  invalid. 

Enter  Myra  and  Ralph,  l. 

Zeke.     Are  these  the  patients — I  mean  the  subjects  ? 

Jonas.     Yes,  and  here's  the  license. 

Zeke.  Well,  as  justice  of  the  peace,  that's  all  I  need. 
{Reads  it.) 

Bets  {aside,  r.).     They're  going  to  be  married,  sure. 

Zeke.     That  is  all  right.     Are  you  going  to  witness  it  ? 

Jonas.     Yes. 

Zeke.  Well,  come  on.  I've  got  all  the  apparatus  with  me. 
I'll  do  a  good  job  on  it,  but  I  won't  guarantee  it  to  last. 

[^Exit  Zeke  in  house. 

Jonas  {aside).     Neither  will  I.  \_Exit  Myra. 

Ralph.     How  about  that  little  contract  ? 

Jonas.     We'll  sign  it  inside. 

Ralph.     All  right ;  and  we'll  do  that  first. 

[^Exeunt  both  in  house. 

Bets.  Well,  I'm  glad  she's  doing  the  job  ship-shape. 
Dad'U  attend  to  that.  He's  good  on  tying  knots.  He  used 
to  tie  a  beaut  on  the  end  of  a  rope  when  he  gave  me  a  licking. 

Enter-  Char.,  r.  u.  e. 
Char.     Bets,  are  you  there?     It's  all  true.     I  have   'em 


4  .^.    •^' 

22  '      DOWN    EAST. 

here.  They  look  like  pieces  of  paper,  but  they're  worth  five 
thousand  dollars. 

Bets.     Will  wonders  never  cease  ?     My  head's  going  round. 

Char.     So's  mine. 

Bets.  Well,  you  want  to  stop  it  for  you'll  see  something  in 
a  minute,  that'll  paralyze  you. 

Enter  all  from  house. 

Zeke.  There,  sir,  that's  as  neat  a  splice  as  ever  you  see.  1 
believe  it's  customary  for  the  officiator  to  kiss  the  bride. 

Ralph.  But  in  this  case  more  honored  in  the  breach  than 
the  observance. 

Char.     The  bride — why,  Myra. 

Ralph.     I  beg  pardon,  Mrs.  Thorne. 

Char.     Married ! 

Jonas.     Yes,  married  and  by  that  act  you  become  a  beggar. 

Char.  Not  yet.  A  new  will  has  been  discovered,  leaving 
me  everything. 

Jonas.     It's  a  damn  lie. 

Char.  Is  it?  Possession  is  nine  points  of  the  law,  and 
here  are  five  thousand  dollars  in  stocks  and  bonds. 

Bets.     And  plenty  more  where  they  came  from. 


^CURTAIN. 


\\fiMi.(rtJ^  \, 


ACT  III. 

SCENE. — Interior  of  an  old  mill.     Any  rough  interior ^  with 
door  in  R.  flat.      Wall  running  down  stage  about  two  feet 
from  L.  side,  with  door  up  stage.     Small  hole  down  stage 
just  large  enough  to  put  an  arm  through.     Shelf  on  iiiside 
below  small  hole.     Supposed  to  be  a  closet  with  a  brick  or 
two  fallen  out.     Inside  of  closet  must  be  seen  by  audience.        , 
Stage  half  dark.      Old  boxes  scattered  about.     Large  box  Oi/^f^ 
up  c.     Steel  jaw  trap  set  up  l.     This  scene  can  be  played^  if 
necessary^  in  a  plain  kitcheii  or  prison^  with  an  old  fireplace 
L.,  instead  of  closet.        /^     J^  p^^  ^^^^t^^  Hjoi 
Enter  ]oi^ as  hurriedly.  ^^^^h^Hf^ 

Jonas.  Oh  !  they'll  never  find  them  here.  No  one  dares 
come  here  after  dark,  for  it's  whispered  that  the  place  is  haunted. 
Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Now  to  use  their  superstition  to  my  advantage. 
The  young  puppy  will  flaunt  his  riches  in  my  face,  will  he  ? 
Now  let  him  find  his  stocks  and  bonds.  {Hides  bttndle  of 
papers  on  shelf  through  small  hole.)  I'll  leave  them  there  till 
the  excitement  of  the  robbery  subsides ;  then  with  my  other 
belongings,  I  will  take  them  with  me  and  leave  this  place  for 
good.  I  have  turned  all  I  possessed  into  money,  (takes  out 
large  pocketbook  and  shows  money,)  five  thousand  dollars  in 
crisp  new  bills.  When  the  stocks  and  bonds  are  sold  I  shall 
have  five  thousand  more.  Enough  to  last  me  the  balance  of 
vay  didiys.  (Noise  outside.)  What  was  that  ?  Somebody  com- 
ing !     I  must  not  be  seen.     (Starts  for  door.) 

Enter  Ralph. 

Ralph.     Ah  !  I  thought  I  couldn't  be  mistaken.  \ 

-Jonas.     How  did  you  know  I  was  here  ? 

Ralph.  I  followed  you,  and  we  couldn't  meet  in  a  better 
place,  for  our  interview  must  be  private. 

Jonas  (aside).  I  don't  like  his  manner.  (Aloud.)  Well, 
what  do  you  want  ? 

Ralph.     Twenty  thousand  dollars. 

Jonas.  Why,  man,  I  haven't  twenty  thousand  cents.  You 
know  how  my  scheme  failed. 

23 


24  DOWN    EAST. 

Ralph.  That's  no  reason  why  mine  should.  I  hold  your 
agreement  to  pay  me  twenty  thousand  dollars  to  marry  that  girl. 
I  fulfilled  my  part  of  it,  now  fulfil  yours. 

Jonas.     I  can't.     I  can't.     I  haven't  a  cent  in  the  world. 

Ralph.  That's  a  lie.  I  happen  to  know  that  you  sold  to 
the  bank  to-day  mortgages  for  five  thousand  dollars,  and  you're 
reputed  to  be  worth  more. 

Jonas.  No,  it's  not  so.  I'm  a  poor  man.  When  I  signed 
that  paper  with  you  I  had  prospects,  but  now  I  have  none. 

Ralph.  And  what  prospects  do  you  think  I  have?  The 
prospect  of  dragging  out  a  life  with  a  woman  that  I  shall  grow 
to  hate,  knowing  as  I  shall,  that  she  is  but  a  stone  about  my 
neck.  And  do  you  think  I  would  burden  myself  with  this  for 
nothing  ?  No !  I  did  it  for  the  money  that  I  will  have  if  I 
tear  its  weight  out  of  your  cowardly  carcass.     (Advances.) 

Jonas  {shrinking).     Stand  off;  I'll  call  for  help  ! 

Ralph.  Call  and  be  damned.  No  one  will  hear  you.  I 
told  you  we  could  not  find  a  better  place,  for  I  intend  to  have 
that  money  or  leave  you  here  a  corpse. 

Jonas.     Help  !  help  !     {Starts  to  go  ;  Ralph  seizes  him.) 

Ralph.  Not  so  soon.  You  have  the  money  on  your  person 
that  you  got  for  the  mortgages.  Will  you  give  it  up  ?  {Shak- 
ing him  by  throat.) 

Jonas.     Yes,  yes,  I'll  give  it.     (Ralph  releases  him.) 

Ralph.     You  will  ?     Then  I'll  take  it  on  account. 

Jonas  {on  floor).  Have  pity  on  me.  I  swear  to  you,  it's 
all  I  have  in  the  world.  I  intended  to  leave  these  parts  with  it 
and  make  it  last  me  for  life.  Don't  leave  me  a  beggar,  de- 
pending on  my  nephew  for  bread.  You  know  how  he  must 
hate  me  after  what  I've  done. 

Ralph.  A  beggar?  And  what's  to  become  of  me?  Whom 
shall  I  beg  of — my  wife?  She  hasn't  a  penny  in  the  world. 
Her  mother  casts  her  off,  and  she  is  left  entirely  on  my  hands. 
When  I  think  of  this  I  could  kill  you. 

Jonas.     Mercy !     Mercy ! 

Ralph.  Get  up  out  of  that,  you  cur,  and  don't  tempt  me 
to  crush  your  life  out.  Give  me  the  five  thousand  dollars  you 
have  and  I'll  give  you  the  contract.  Do  it  quick  before  I 
change  my  mind. 

Jonas.     Oh,  this  is  terrible.     {Taking  out  money .) 

Ralph  {snatching  it).  Shut  up  with  your  snivelling. 
{Throws  down  paper.)  There's  your  contract,  and  consider 
that  you've  made  fifteen  thousand  dollars.     {Going.) 

Jonas.     You  haven't  heard  the  last  of  this. 


OcfrTKJL^    (p^^^-ri    Ufl?  0-Jv^<Jr. 


uijiyduO    r^^  f\ 


DOWN    EAST.  25 

Ralph.  Haven't  I?  If  I  hear  any  more  of  it,  it'll  be  the 
worse  for  you. 

jEnfer  Zeke  anci  Bets. 

Zeke.     What'U  be  the  worse  for  you  ? 
Ralph  (swinging  him  round).     Out  of  my  way,  you  old 
fossil.  [Exit. 

(Zeke  swings  into  Jonas  and  knocks  him  down.) 

Bets.  Here,  come  back  here  and  do  that  over.  You  didn't 
do  it  right. 

Zeke.  One  good  turn  deserves  another,  Jonas.  What's 
the  matter  with  him?     {Rubbing  leg.) 

Bets.     Nothing,  dad.     The  matter's  with  you. 

Zeke.     We  heard  a  noise  up  here,  and  came  to  investigate. 

Jonas.  He's  angry,  that's  all.  Disappointed  in  his  mar- 
riage. 

Zeke.    Well,  I  told  him  I  couldn't  guarantee  it.    (  Crosses  r.) 

Bets.  I  don't  blame  you,  dad.  It  didn't  seem  to  have  the 
right  flavor  about  it. 

Zeke.  You  were  kicking  up  such  an  all-fired  racket.  I 
cal'lated  there  must  be  trouble. 

Jonas.  No,  nothing  serious.  We  did  have  an  argument. 
{Fixing  collar y  etc.) 

Bets.     You  look  as  if  he  put  up  a  pretty  good  one. 

Zeke.  I  thought  mebbe  tramps  were  in  here.  This  old 
ranch  ought  to  be  burned  down.  I'm  going  to  ask  Deacon 
Perkins  to  burn  it.     (Jonas  nervous.) 

Bets.     What  a  roast  the  rats  will  get. 

Zeke.  Yes,  if  I  don't  clean  'em  out  first.  I've  got  a  big 
trap  set  over  in  that  corner.  {Going  c.)  Going,  Jonas?  Sure 
there  wasn't  no  trouble  with  that  youngster?  I'm  justice,  you 
know,  and  deacon's  constable,  and  'tween  us  we're  a  hot 
potato. 

Bets.     Yes,  and  that  fellow  just  dropped  you  like  one. 

Enter  Char,  quickly. 

Char.     Ah,  Zeke.     I've  found  you  at  last. 
Bets.     He  wasn't  lost. 

Zeke.  There's  no  reward  coming  to  you.  I  haven't  been 
advertised. 

Char.     There's  been  a  robbery  committed. 
Zeke.     Get  out.     Where? 


26  DOWN    EAST. 

Char.  The  five  thousand  dollars  that  was  sent  to  me  in 
stocks  and  bonds  have  disappeared. 

Zeke.     Stolen  ? 

Char.     Yes. 

Zeke.     By  whom  ? 

Char.     I  don't  know. 

Jonas.     Do  you  suspect  any  one  ? 

Char.     No. 

Bets.     I  do. 

Char.     Whom  ? 

Bets.     Your  uncle  Jonas.     {Points.') 

Jonas.     Me  ?    Absurd ! 

Zeke.     On  what  grounds  do  you  accuse  him  ? 

Bets.     On  these  grounds,  right  here. 

Zeke.     I  mean  what  makes  you  think  so  ? 

Bets.  Because  he  was  the  only  one  that  knew  where 
Charley  kept  them. 

Jonas.  The  thief  is  that  man  Thorne.  I  heard  a  noise  in 
the  house  this  morning,  and  saw  him  ride  away.  I  saw  him 
again  about  an  hour  ago,  and  followed  him  here.  I  charged 
him  with  it,  and  he  threatened  to  kill  me  if  I  divulged.  You 
see,  Charley,  the  risk  I  run  for  your  sake.  My  throat  still 
aches  from  his  fingers. 

Zeke.  Then  that  was  the  trouble  ?  The  darned  skunk  ! 
And  he  slipped  through  my  fingers. 

Bets.     Come  on,  let's  run  him  down. 

Char.      Uncle  Jonas,   you   shall   be   rewarded.      {Shakes 


hands.') 

Zeke. 

Jonas. 

Zeke. 
I'll  leg  it. 

Bets. 


Which  way  did  he  go  ? 
The  turnpike,  I  think,  on  his  bicycle. 
Come  on,  Charley,  get  out  your  plug  and  chase  him. 
\_Exeunt  Char,  and  Zeke. 
He  won't  get  far  on  the  turnpike.     I  spilled  a  whole 
paper  of  tacks  there  yesterday. 

\^Exit.     Jonas  about  to  take  papers  out. 

Reenter  Bets. 

Bets.  What  are  you  waiting  for,  Mr.  Desmond?  Why 
don't  you  join  in  the  hunt? 

Jonas.     I — I  was  going. 

Bets.     Then  get  a  wiggle  on.  \_Exit  Jonas. 

Bets.  I  wonder  what  he  was  going  to  stay  behind  for? 
There's  something  mighty  mysterious  here.  {Noise  outside. ) 
What's  that  ?     I  wonder  if  he's  coming  back,  or  waiting  out- 


DOWN    EAST.  27 

side.     ( Creeps  up  to  door  and  opens  it  suddenly  ;  Wash  dis- 
covered.) 

Wash.  Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  Good  Lor'  !  How  you  frightened 
me. 

Bets.     What  were  you  doing  there  ? 

Wash.  Why,  all  de  village  are  out  searching  for  de  man 
dat  married  Myra  Bigelow,  and  dey  told  me  to  come  up  here 
and  see  dat  he  didn't  get  in  here  to  hide. 

Bets.     Then  why  didn't  you  come  inside? 

Wash.     I  was  trying  to  work  up  my  courage. 

Bets.  A  nice  soldier  you'd  make.  Just  stay  in  here,  and 
if  any  one  comes — grab  him  and  hold  him.  [^Exit./ttl^ 

Wash.     Gr-r-r-ab   him   and   hold   him.     Supposing  it's  ^{Jjih, 
^Mier" — or   an^'it."     It   might   be   a   ghost   without   either  ^ 
masculine  or  feminine  tense.     I  wonder  what  a  ghost  is  like  ? 
Dey  say  dey' re  white.     If  I  was  to  see  one  I  bet  it  would  be  a 
toss  up  to  see  which  was  de  whitest,  me  or  de^hos^.  y^(BETS 
moa7ts  outside.)  UmaL^  X^^^  fd  /o^Li^  tiyi/t 

Wash.     What  am  dat?    Oh,  Lor'  !  dis  place  gives  me  we^  j 
shivers.     Oh,  I  ain't  going  to  be  scared.     {Whistles.     Same^f^ 
tune  repeated  outside ;  work  up  bus.)     Psha  !    dat' s  a  funny- ^U^ 
graph,  dat's  all.     {Da7ices,  ending  in  break.     Break  repeated  V^mM 
with  slap  sticks.)     Dat  was  an  echo.     {Repeats.)     No,  it's  a^^idy 
ghost  for  sure.      ( Claps  hands y  repeat  outside,  does  it  several 
times,  finally  stops  suddenly  and  catches  Bets,  who  claps.) 
Dat's  de  time  I  fooled  de  ghost.     Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !   {Sits  in  chair 
and  laughs  ;  enter  Bets  with  sheet ;  taps  him  on  shoulder  ;  he 
nearly  faints.     Work  up  bus.,  she  exits.)     Oh,  Lor'  sakes  !  all  ^^^, 
the  deeds  of  my  past  life  rise  up  before  me.     Ebery  chicken  Ij^^iar 
ever  stole  squawked  at  me.     Will  dey  nebber  come  back  to  re-   ^j^ 
lieve  me?     I  can  feel  my  wool  turning  white.     I'll  be  like 
Mary's  little  lamb.     {Steps  in  steel  trap.)    Oh,  Lor'  !  de  devil's 
got  me  for  sure.     Help  !  help  ! 

Enter  Bets. 

Bets.  What  is  it,  a  rat  in  the  trap  ?  Give  me  a  club  till  I 
kill  him.     {Takes  chair.) 

Wash.  Don't  strike.  Miss  Bets,  don't  strike,  it's  me, 
William  Washington  White. 

Bets.     Is  that  you,  White  Wash  ?     I  mean  Wash  White. 

Wash.     Dat's  me.  Bets,  and  I'm  in  trouble. 

Bets.  Well,  you've  put  your  foot  in  it  this  time.  {Noise 
outside ;  she  releases  him.)  They're  coming  back.  {Enter 
Charles  with  lantern,  lights  up.)     Did  you  catch  him? 


28  DOWN    EAST. 


Y^x^aAh  aw 


Char.     Yes,  they're  bringing  him  up  here. 

Wash.     Golly  !  I  must  see  de  parade.  \^Exit.  /I 

Char.     I  missed  you  and  thought  perhaps  something  had^*^ 
happened.  '^^ 

Bets.  And  if  something  had  happened  to  me,  Charley, 
would  you  feel  bad  ? 

Char.  Of  course  I  would,  Bets.  Don't  you  know  I 
would  ? 

Bets.     Oh,  dear.     I  hope  something  will  happen  to  me. 

Char.     Why  ?     Do  you  wish  to  mflict  misery  on  me  ? 

Bets.  I  dunno  !  It  would  be  awful  nice  to  have  some  one 
feeling  miserable  about  you.  Say,  for  instance,  if  I  was  sick 
abed,  what  would  you  do  ? 

Char.  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  I  would  send  you  flowers 
every  day. 

Bets.  Would  you?  I'm  going  to  catch  the  measles  to- 
morrow. You  can  choose  for  me.  Which  shall  it  be,  the 
measles  or  the  mumps?     I  know  w^here  there's  a  case  of  each. 

Char.  Well,  of  the  two  evils  choose  neither.  {Noise  out- 
side.^    Here  they  come. 

Enter  Zeke,  Deacon  with  Ralph,  Jonas,  Wash,  supers  if 
desired y  and  Hannah. 

Zeke.  Right  in  this  way.  We  ain't  quite  up  to  New  York 
in  getting  a  bang  up  courthouse ;  but  we  kin  deal  out  justice 
and  see  fair  play  just  as  well,  and  a  darn  sight  better. 

Bets.     Hear  !  Hear  !  (Zeke p/aces  large  box  o,.  for  desk,) 

Zeke.  What  are  you  doing  here,  old  woman?  Who's 
tending  store  ? 

Han.  No  one.  Store's  shut  up.  I  guess  I  want  to  see  the 
fun  as  much  as  you  do. 

(Zeke  c,  Hannah  r.  c,  Deacon,  Ralph,  Wash  r..  Bets, 
Char,  and  ]o^ as  l.) 

Bets.     Look  out,  dad.     She  means  business. 

Ralph.  Come,  go  on  with  this  farce.  Why  am  I  brought 
here  ? 

Zeke.  You  weren't  brought  here  to  ask  the  court  ques- 
tions ;  the  shoe  is  on  the  other  foot.  Are  you  guilty  or  not 
guilty  ? 

Ralph.     Guilty  of  what  ? 

Zeke.  There  you  go  asking  questions  again.  Did  you 
commit  the  deed  ?     Now  answer  it  straight  or  I'll  commit  you. 


DOWN   EAST.  19 

Ralph.  You  are  committing  yourself  and  overstepping 
your  authority. 

Zeke.  Young  man,  we  haven't  been  justice  of  the  peace 
for  ten  years  to  have  you  come  along  and  tell  us  our  business. 

Han.     No,  Zeke,  so  we  haven't.     (Steps  beside  him.) 

Bets.     I'm  in  the  family,  too.     {Steps  up, ) 

Ralph.     I  insist  on  knowing  of  what  I  am  accused. 

Dea.     Mebbe  'twould  be  as  well,  Zeke,  to  tell  him. 

Zeke.     What's  the  use?     He'd  only  deny  it. 

Dea.     I  know,  but  he'd  have  to  find  it  out  sooner  or  later. 

Zeke.  Well  I  s'pose  he  would  ;  somebody' d  let  the  cat  out 
of  the  bag.  Young  man,  the  learned  counsel,  I  mean  constable, 
in  the  goodness  of  his  heart,  for  he's  a  church  deacon  as  well, 
has  seen  fit  to  ask  the  court  to  be  lenient,  so  the  court  will. 

Han.     Yes,  we'll  tell  you. 

Bets.     Ahem  !  So  we  will. 

Zeke.     You  are  accused  of  larceny. 

Han.     Yes,  stealing. 

Bets.     Yes,  swiping. 

Zeke.  You  are  accused  of — ahem  !  pinching  stocks  and 
bonds  to  the  amount  of  five  thousand  dollars  from  one  Charles 
Desmond. 

Ralph.     And  who  accuses  me  ? 

Jonas.     I  do. 

Ralph.  You  ?  You  contemptible  dog  !  A  nice  accuser  you 
are,  a  man  who  would  sacrifice  his  own  soul  for  money;  I 
might  expect  it  of  you. 

Jonas.  Let  him  be  searched,  you  might  find  the  money  on 
his  person. 

Zeke.     A  good  idea.     Deacon,  with  your  assistance. 

(They  search  him.      Jonas  tears  up  contract,  and  throws 
pieces  through  hole  in  wall  unseen  by  all  but  Bets.) 

Bets  {aside).     I  wonder  what  that  paper  was  he  tore  up. 

Zeke.     What's  this?  Money?     (Finding  bills.) 

Jonas.     He  has  sold  the  bonds  for  money ;  count  it. 

Zeke.     That's  what  I'm  doing. 

Ralph  (to  Jonas).  Oh,  why  didn't  I  complete  the  job 
and  kill  you  ! 

Dea.  I'd  advise  you  not  to  say  too  much,  mister.  It  may 
count  against  you. 

Zeke.     Five  thousand  dollars  to  a  cent. 

Han.     Good  gracious  !     Enough  to  buy  the  whole  town. 

Bets.     With  the  people  thrown  in. 


30  DOWN    EAST. 

Jonas.  You  see  what  he  has  done?  Fearing  detection,  he 
at  once  converted  the  bonds  into  cash.  The  amount  exactly 
tallies.     Upon  this  evidence  I  charge  him  with  the  crime. 

Zeke.  You  charge  !  What  business  have  you  got  to  charge 
anything.  The  court  will  do  the  charging.  Ahem  !  I  am 
the  court. 

Han.     We,  Zeke.     We ! 

Bets.     Yes,  we  are  the  people. 

Zeke.  At  home  and  in  the  shop — yes ;  but  here — no  ! 
Here  I  am  the  whole  shooting  match.  Prisoner,  I  hereby 
charge  you  with  a  peck  of  potatoes,  ahem ! 

Bets.     Don't  talk  shop,  dad. 

Zeke.  I  should  say,  I  charge  you  with  grand  larceny. 
(Hannah  w/iisj>ers  to  him.)  Eh!  Indict?  No,  that  sounds 
too  cityfied.  They  indict  and  they  subpoena  and  they  twist 
and  turn,  till  finally  the  fish  gets  away.  But  we'll  say  jest 
what  we  mean  in  good  plain  English  and  that  is,  that  we  think 
that  fellow  stole  the  money  from  Charley  Desmond  and  we're 
a-going  to  do  our  gol-durndest  to  put  him  through  for  it. 

All.     Hurrah ! 

Dea.  Zeke,  I  think  we'd  better  hold  him  till  the  next  meet- 
ing of  the  regular  court. 

Zeke.  He's  too  heavy  to  hold.  We'll  jest  jug  him.  Pris- 
oner, there's  enough  evidence  to  board  you  awhile  at  the 
town's  expense. 

Ralph.  Before  you  take  me  away,  give  me  at  least  the  sat- 
isfaction of  explaining  how  I  got  that  money.  That  miserable 
wretch  yonder  paid  it  to  me  to  marry  Myra  in  order  to  spoil 
Charles  Desmond's  inheritance. 

Jonas.     It's  a  lie. 

Ralph.  Search  him  and  you  will  find  the  agreement  we 
both  signed  to  that  end. 

Jonas.     Search  me  then  and  see.     (Zeke  searches  him.) 

Bets  (aside).     Oh,  that  puts  an  idea  into  my  head. 

Char.     What  is  it.  Bets  ? 

Bets.     Nothing.     (  Whispers  to  Char.  ;  he  nods,) 

Zeke.  Nothing  there  'cept  a  handkerchief  and  a  horse 
chestnut. 

(Bets  hides  at  back.) 

Ralph.     Nothing  !     He  has  destroyed  it  then. 

Dea.     Come,  we'll  take  a  walk  to  the  cooler. 

Zeke.     This  court  is  now  adjourned.     (All  hurrah.) 

[^Exeunt  Dea.,  Ralph,  Jonas,  Wash  and  Char. 


DOWN    EAST.  31 

Zeke.     Mother,  how  did  I  conduct  this  case  ? 

Han.     We  conducted  it  well,  Zeke. 

\^Exeunt  Zeke  and  Hannah. 

Bets  {coming  out  from  behind  box).  All  gone.  Now  to 
see  what  that  paper  was.  {Puts  arm  in  hole  and  finds  bundle 
of  stock.)  Jiminy  Christmas  !  I've  stumbled  on  to  the  whole 
shooting  maich.     {Noise.)     Somebody  coming. 

(  Takes  steel  trap  and  goes  through  door  into  closet^  shutting 
door.     Enter  Jonas  cautiously .) 

Jonas.  All  gone.  It  won't  do  to  leave  the  prize  here.  It's 
not  safe. 

{Puts  arm  through  hole.     Bets  springs  trap  on  his  hand.) 

Bets.  But  you  are !  {She  rushes  outy  opens  door  and 
calls.)     Come  on.     I've  caught  the  thieving  rat  and  there  he  is. 

Enter  Zeke,  Char.  Wash  and  Han.  Bets  c.  with  stock. 
Jonas  howling  with  pain.  Trap  too  large  to  be  pulled 
through  hole  and  holds  him  there.     Lights  up. 


^  CURTAIN.  / 


\ 


i4>-v^»^-«-# 


^^^^^^c^/^.K.^J''^- 


SCENE. — Parlor    A.    iii   Palmer   Houses    Chicago ^    during 
World's  Fair.     Char,  disguised  as  a  countryman^  ^ii^£^i^M 
fred  talkifig  with  ^kLVYi. ,  ^l(CV  >Uki   U^a^^X^J^  (y^^^  uw 

Ralph.     Yes,  my  dear  Mr.'  Middleton,  it  is  necessary  for 

me  to  observe  the  profoundest  secrecy  in  the  transaction  of  this 

*  business,  therefore  I  cannot  give  you  my  address.     A  letter 

directed  to  John  Vogel,  general  delivery,  Chicago,  will  always 

reach  me. 

Char.  And  you  say  you  have  always  worked  this  paper 
without  suspicion  ? 

Ralph.  Without  the  slightest.  It  is  made  by  a  man  who 
was  formerly  employed  in  the  Treasury  Department,  and  un- 
derstands his  business  thoroughly.  Why,  just  look  at  one  of 
the  bills.  (Char,  does  so.)  See  the  hair  marks  in  the  paper? 
I'd  defy  any  bank  cashier  in  the  country  to  detect  it. 

Char.  And  you'll  sell  me  this  hundred  five  dollar  bills  for 
one  hundred  dollars  in  gold  ? 

Ralph.  That  was  the  agreement  we  made  by  letter,  Mr. 
Middleton. 

Char.  All  right,  sir,  there's  your  money.  {Gives  gold  and 
takes  package  of  bills.) 

Ralph.  Correct !  It's  time  that  waiter  came  with  the 
drinks  we  ordered. 

Char.  Yes,  this  financiering  makes  a  man  awful  thirsty, 
doesn't  it  ? 

Ralph.  So  it  does.  I  tell  you  what  to  do,  Mr.  Middleton. 
When  the  waiter  comes,  pay  him  with  one  of  those  bills  just  to 
test  their  value. 

Char.  No  !  I  might  git  ketch ed,  and  I'm  not  well  ac- 
quainted here.  I  guess  I'll  wait  till  I  git  home  in  Connecticut 
and  work  'em  off  on  my  respected  townsmen.  They  ain't  ac 
cute  there. 

Ralph.     Oh,  there  isn't  the  slightest  danger. 

Char.  Ain't  tlje^e — welL  then,  heje — you  work  it  on  him 
(^Gives  one.)  I'X'- ^     I'-C:     t\  u 

Ralph.     All  right  !  I  will, — ^just  to^show  you. 

I 
Enter  Wash  c,  with  tray  and  tivo  glasses  of  7vine. 

32 


WJVxo^  ^K^ijL^i^f3/yx^  C 


DOWK   EASt.  33 

Wash.  Sorry  to  keep  you  waiting  so  long,  gents,  but  we're 
awful  busy  to-day.     {They  take  drinks.^ 

Ralph  {aside).  Awful  busy,  eh,  a  good  time.  Here's  a 
five  dollar  bill.     Sorry  I  haven't  anything  smaller. 

(Char,  removes  false  beard  and  winks  at  Wash.) 

Wash.     Dat's  all  right,  sir.     We  could  change  it  if  it  was 
a  six  dollar  bill.     {Aside.)     Oh,  what  a  lamb  he  is.     He's     , 
walking  right  up  to  de  sacrifice.  \_Exit  c.Qo^ 

Ralph.     Here's  that  we  may  do  business  often,  Mr.  Middle^.Z^u^ 

ton.  l^, 

Char.  Oh,  now  that  we've  got  the  ball  a-rolling,  I  guess 
we'll  be  all  right.  {They  drink.)  That's  pretty  good  cider, 
ain't  it  ? 

Enter  Wash. 

Wash.  Here's  your  change,  mister.  {Gives  change  to 
Ralph.) 

Ralph.     All  right.     (Wash  waits,)     Oh,  here's  fifty  cents. 

Wash.  Tank  you,  sir.  {Aside,)  Dat's  a  good  generous 
tip. 

Char,  {aside).     With  my  money. 

Wash.  I  beg  pardon,  sir.  Dere's  a  lady  in  the  corridor 
wants  to  see  you. 

Ralph.     To  see  me  ?     What  name  did  she  ask  for  ? 

Wash.     For  Mr.  Thorne. 

Ralph.     That's  not  my  name. 

Wash.  Dat's  what  I  told  the  lady.  But  she  said  you  was 
de  gemmen  she  wanted  to  see,  if  you  called  yourself  Julius 
Caesar. 

Char.  Ha !  ha !  you  gay  young  dog.  One  of  your 
mashes,  eh?     Well,  I'll  be  going  and  give  you  a  chance. 

Ralph.  No,  don't  hurry.  {To  Wash.)  Tell  the  lady  I 
can't  see  her. 

Wash.     All  right,  sir.  [^Exit. 

Ralph.  Some  beggar,  I  dare  say,  who  has  heard  of  my 
philanthropy. 

Char.  Yes,  that's  the  way  a  charitable  man  gets  imposed 
upon. 

Myra  {outside).  I  tell  you  he  shall  see  me.  {Enter  c, 
poorly  dressed.)     He  must  see  me. 

Ralph.  You  here?  Well,  good-bye,  Mr.  Middleton ; 
write  me,  won't  you? 


fe. 


EAST. 

Char.  Oh,  yes,  good-bye.  {Aside.^  Poor  Myra,  I  never 
thought  it  would  come  to  this.  \_ExU  c.  ^f 

Ralph.  So  !  You  have  chosen  to  follow  me  on  the  streets, 
eh,  thinking  perhaps  to  come  here  and  shame  me?  ^^^ 

MvRA.  No,  for  I  know  that  you  are  dead  even  to  shame. 
I  followed  you  to  demand  what  is  my  right,  an  explanation. 

Ralph.     An  explanation  of  what  ? 

Myra.  Of  why  you  left  me  in  a  desolate  attic  room  with- 
out friends  or  resources  and  never  came  near  me  for  a  month. 

Ralph.  Perhaps  it  was  a  hint  of  what  you  may  expect  if 
you  insist  on  remaining  my  true  and  loving  wife. 

Myra.  Your  loving  wife?  You  flatter  yourself.  Let  me 
tell  you, — you  played  upon  a  schoolgirl's  folly,  but  never  upon 
her  love. 

Ralph.  Oh,  you  don't  love  me?  Well,  perhaps  you  can 
find  more  lucrative  fields.     (^Crosses  l.) 

Myra.     What  do  you  mean  ? 

Ralph.  I  mean  there's  no  need  of  your  w^anting.  If  I  were 
a  woman  with  such  a  face  and  form,  well — I  wouldn't  starve. 
{Sits  l.) 

Myra.  Ah!  {Half  faints.^  I  understand  you  now,  and 
this  is  my  punishment.  Oh  !  just  Heaven,  it  is  too  severe. 
Are  you  a  man  ?  Do  you  realize  what  you  have  done  ?  You 
have  not  only  punished  me  for  my  folly,  but  the  blow  has  fallen 
on  another,  my  mother.  It  was  too  much  for  her.  It  killed 
her.     Do  you  hear  ?     She  is  dead. 

Ralph  (rising).  I  have  heard  enough.  This  interview 
can  end  right  here.  This  is  a  public  parlor  and  no  place  to 
ventilate  family  troubles. 

Myra  (starts  to  go).  No,  you  shall  not  go.  (Stops  him.) 
You  have  caused  all  this  misery,  and  I  refuse  to  suffer  it  alone. 
You  are  my  husband  and  the  law  shall  do  me  justice.    (Loudly.) 

Ralph.  Stop  your  infernal  noise  or.  I'll  choke  you.  (Rushes 
at  her.) 

Myra.     No,  I  will  not. 

RXlph.  You  won't?  We'll  see.  (Chokes  her.)  Now  will 
you  be  silent ! 

Enter  Char,  not  disguised ;  throivs  him  off  R. 

Char.  You  cowardly  cur  ! 

Ralph.  Charles  Desmond !  You'll  champion  her,  will 
you? 

Char.  Yes,  with  my  life. 

Ralph.  Then  take  that. 


DOWN    EAST,  35 

(^They  Ji^ht ;  she  screams,  Char,  knocks  Ralph  down  up 
stage  c,  Char.  r.  corner,  Ralph  recovers  ;  pulls  revol- 
ver. Enter  Zeke,  all  dressed  up,  c.  D.  and  catches  him 
with  crook  on  cane  about  his  neck,  Ralph  turns  and 
aims  at  him ;  Zeke  strikes  his  hand  with  cane  and  he 
drops  pistol.') 

Zeke.     How  do,  Mr.  Thorne. 

Ralph.  Is  this  a  conspiracy  on  your  parts  ?  (71?  Myra.) 
It  seems  you  have  several  friends  and  allies  at  your  beck  and 
call.  Then  let  them  prove  their  friendship,  for  you'll  never 
see  me  again.      {Picks  up  pistol  and  starts  for  c.  d.) 

Enter  Hannah  c,  sees  pistol  pointed  at  her,  screams  and 
throws  tip  her  hands. 

Han.     Don't  shoot,  my  hands  are  up. 

Ralph.     Bah !  \^Exit. 

Zeke.     That  ain't  a  cowboy,  mother. 

Han.     Land  sakes  !     I  thought  my  last  hour  had  come. 

Zeke.  Mother's  heard  so  much  about  the  West,  she  stops 
and  shakes  with  fright  at  every  cigar  sign. 

Han.     Myrey  Bigelow,  is  that  you  ? 

Myra.  Yes,  Aunt  Hannah,  that  was  my  name ;  would  to 
Heaven  it  were  still. 

Zeke.  It  might  have  been  if  I'd  refused  that  job.  Well,  I 
said  I  wouldn't  guarantee  it. 

Han.  There  !  there  !  child,  don't  cry.  {Kisses  her  and 
sits  on  sofa  r.,  Zeke  motions  Char,  to  other  side  of  stage.) 

Zeke.     Purty  tough  case,  ain't  it? 

Char.  Yes ;  poor  girl,  she  has  bitterly  paid  the  price  of 
her  folly. 

Zeke.     How  did  you  get  along  with  the  other  matter  ? 

Char.     Fine  !     He  walked  right  into  the  trap. 

Zeke.  Just  like  Jonas  did  into  Betsy's  trap,  eh?  Is  it 
ready  to  spring  on  him  yet  ? 

Char.     Almost  ready,  but  not  quite. 

Zeke.  Say,  Charley,  can't  you  manage  to  entertain  the  old 
woman  awhile?  I've  been  trying  to  lose  her,  so's  I  could  take 
in  the  sights. 

Char.     I'll  try. 

Zeke.     The  deacon's  here  with  us. 

Char.     Is  he  ? 

Zeke.  Yes,  and  having  it  all  his  own  way.  You  see  he's 
a  widower,   and  can  go  where  he  likes.     He's  been  on  the 


36  DOWN    EAST.' 

Midway  and  whirled  round  the  wheel  {whispers)^  zxiA  seen  the 
coochee-coochee  gals,  and  I  ain't  seen  nothing  yet.  Had  to 
trot  the  old  woman  around  dry  goods  stores  ever  since  I  got 
here. 

Char.     That's  too  bad. 

Zeke.     I  want  to  see  the  menagerie  they  tell  so  much  about. 

Char.     Menagerie  ? 

Zeke.  Yes,  where  they  see  the  elephant  and  buck  the  tiger. 
I'm  afraid  deacon  will  have  twice  as  much  to  tell  about  when 
we  git  back  as  I  will. 

Char.     But  where's  Bets  all  this  time? 

Zeke.  Oh,  she's  gitting  fitted  to  a  new  gown.  Wait  till 
you  see  it.  It's  a  stunner.  It  cost  enough  for  five ;  but  we're 
a  doing  things  up  brown,  if  I  have  to  wet  the  sugar  to  pay 
for  it. 

Bets  {outside).  Which  parlor  did  you  say,  Wash  ?  {Music 
still  on,) 

Wash  {outside).     Parlor  A,  first  left. 

Zeke.     Here  she  is  now — shade  your  eyes. 

Han.     Here  comes  Bets,  she'll  cheer  you  up. 

Bets  {outside).     You  needn't  come,  Wash ;  I  can  find  it. 

Wash  {outside),  Dat's  all  right.  Miss  Bets,  you  want  to  be 
in  style.     {Enter,)     Miss  Bets  Fletcher  ! 

Enter  Bets  aitd  exit  Wash  c. 

Bets.  Here  I  am.  Ain't  this  in  it?  Hullo,  Charley  !  I'm 
awful  glad  to  see  you.     {Shakes  hands  violently,) 

Char.     Not  more  than  I  am  to  see  you. 

Zeke.     Ain't  she  a  poem  ?     {Examining  dress,) 

Bets.     Look  out,  dad.    Don't  breathe  on  it.    It  soils  easily. 

Han.     Zeke,  she's  a  dream. 

Zeke.     Yes,  a  dream  of  bankruptcy. 

Han.     I'm  going  to  have  one  just  like  it. 

Zeke.  Yes,  then  you'd  be  a  dream.  The  kind  you  have 
after  eating  mince  pie.    *  ( Crosses  L. ) 

Bets.     Is  that  Myra? 

Han.     That's  who  it  is. 

Bets.     Why,  Myra,  my  old  chum.     {Kisses  her,) 

Zeke.  I  guess  this  would  be  a  good  time  for  me  to  sneak. 
{Tiptoes  to  c.  D.) 

Bets.     Why  !  Myra,  what's  the  trouble? 

Myra.     Don't  ask  me,  Bets.     Don't  ask  me. 

Han.   {sees  Zeke  about  to  exit  c).     Zeke  Fletcher  ! 

Zeke.     Yes,  mother ! 


^^<jK^<L^^    yc^^  jC^t:^OK  C , 


I 


DOWN    EAST.  37 

Han.     Where  were  you  going? 

Zeke.     Just  to  see  if  the  deacon  was  coming. 

Han.     Oh ! 

Char.  I'll  tell  you  what  the  trouble  is,  Bets.  The  man 
who  swore  to  love  and  protect  her  has  proven  a  scoundrel  be- 
yond belief. 

Han.     Yes,  he  actually  threatened  my  life  with  a  gun. 

Zeke  (aside).     I'll  try  again.  \ 

Bets.  I  wouldn't  let  that  trouble  me.  I'd  get  back  at  him 
by  wearing  bloomers. 

Han.     Zeke  Fletcher  ! 

Zeke.     Yes,  mother  ! 

Han.     Where  were  you  going  that  time  ? 

Zeke.     Going  to  see  how  far  I  could  git  afore  you  called  me. 

Bets.     Why  don't  you  get  a  divorce? 

Myra.     That's  not  so  easy. 

Bets.     Yes,  it  is.     You're  in  Chicago. 

Char.     On  what  grounds  would  she  sue  ? 

Bets.  Any  old  grounds.  Everything  goes  here.  The 
place  is  full  of  go,  that's  why  it's  called  Chica-go. 

Char.  A  divorce  is  not  a  bad  idea.  I'm  sure  I  could 
testify  as  to  his  cruelty.     (Zeke  about  to  sneak  out,) 

Enter  Deacon  c. 

Dea.     Hello,  Zeke,  where  are  you  going  ? 

Zeke.     Nowhere  !     You've  just  spoiled  it. 

Han.  We've  found  her,  deacon,  and  it's  lucky  we  did  too. 
He  might  have  had  her  drawn  and  quartered  by  this  time. 

Dea.  {shakes  hands  with  Myra).  Myra,  I'm  glad  to  see 
you,  but  sorry  to  find  you  in  so  much  trouble. 

Myra.     Deacon,  you  were  my  mother's  dearest  friend.    Tell, 
me,  did  she  forgive  me?  /iA^>i^/%n*^  (f-^t^  C/^^«4^'C-t^(:l^»^/ 

Dea.     Yes,  Myra,  she  forgave  you.     What's  more,  she  left  "^ 
you  everything  she  had. 

Myra.     My  dear  mother.     {Sits  on  sofa  with  Dea.) 

Bets  {aside).  I  wish  I  could  get  a  chance  to  talk  with 
Charley  alone. 

Dea.  Yes,  Myra,  she  appointed  me  her  executor.  That's 
why  I'm  here,  to  bring  you  back  if  you  care  to  go. 

Bets  {aside).  I  have  it.  {Crosses  and  whispers  to  Zeke, 
while  Han.  talks  to  Char.) 

Myra.  If  I  care  to  go !  It  has  been  my  wish  night  and 
day  to  cancel  all  this  bitter  present  and  be  once  more  as  I  was 
in  the  happy  past. 


38  DOWN    EAST. 

(Zeke  nods  and  hides  behind  chair  l.) 

Bets.  Mother,  (Han.  comes  l.),  I'm  afraid  you're  going 
to  miss  the  best  part  of  the  Fair. 

Han.     How  so  ? 

Bets.  Well,  this  is  the  day  that  the  Midway  Plaisance  rides 
the  Ferris  Wheel,  and  you  don't  want  to  miss  it. 

Han.     Lor'  sakes  !     I  wouldn't  miss  it  for  the  world. 

Bets.     And  then  you  want  to  see  some  of  the  big  buildings. 

Han.     Oh,  I  can  see  them  to-morrow. 

Bets.  No  !  they  may  be  gone  to-morrow.  They  do  things 
quick  here.     Why,  I  saw  one  this  morning  twenty  stories  high. 

Han.     Now,  Bets,  don't  you  fool  me. 

Bets.     No  !     They're  not  fish  stories  either. 

Han.     I  must  get  Zeke  to  go  with  me. 

Bets.     Yes,  where  is  he? 

Han.  {looking  about).  Zeke  !  Zeke  Fletcher  !  He's  es- 
caped. He's  been  trying  to  all  day.  Zeke  !  come  back  here. 
\^Exit  c.  and  r.     Zeke  walks  out  whistling  c.  and  l. 

Dea.  Yes,  Myrey,  you  needn't  trouble  about  the  future; 
it's  all  in  your  own  hands.  But  if  you  ever  have  anything  to 
do  with  that  scoundrel,  you're  not  the  gal  I  take  you  for. 

Bets.  You  needn't  worry  about  that.  He'll  soon  be  in  a 
place  where  he  can't  trouble  her  much.  A  place  where  he 
won't  have  to  wonder  where  his  next  meal  is  coming  from. 

Dea.     I  hope  so.     Come,  Myrey,  come  with  me. 

Myra.     I  don't  deserve  this  kindness. 

Dea.  We  won't  argue  that.  You've  been  thoughtless,  not 
blameful.  \_Exit  Dea.  and  Myra,  r.  u.  e. 

Bets.  Now,  Charley,  they  are  all  gone,  let's  have  a  nice 
social  confab. 

Char.     With  all  my  heart.      {Both  sit  on  sofa.) 

Bets.     Does  it  seem  long  to  you  since  you  saw  me  ? 

Char.     Yes,  it  seems  a  year. 

Bets.     That's  good  !     'Twas  only  a  month,  though. 

Char.     Have  you  missed  me.  Bets  ? 

Bets.     Oh,  yes  !     I've  had  to  go  after  the  mail  myself. 

Char.     Is  that  the  only  reason  you  missed  me,  Bets  ? 

Bets.  Oh,  no  !  {Aside.)  Now  it's  coming  sure.  I  feel 
as  if  I  was  blindfolded  and  expected  to  bump  against  some- 
thing.    {Aloud. )     What  were  you  going  to  say  ? 

Char.     Nothing ! 

Bets.     Oh! 

Char.     That  is,  I  had  a  (question  to  ask. 


DOWN    EAST.  39 

Bets.  Well,  go  ahead.  Don't  be  nervous — nobody's  lis- 
tening. 

Char.  Well,  I  was  afraid  it  might  arouse  unpleasant  mem- 
ories. 

Bets.  Oh,  no  it  won't.  I'm  prepared.  It  won't  startle 
me.     What  was  it? 

Char.     Well,  I  was  about  to  ask  if  you 

Bets.     Yes  !  if  I Oh,  come,  spit  it  out. 

Char.     Well — if  you — know  how  Uncle  Jonas  is  getting  on. 

Bets  {disgusted^.  No,  I  don't.  And  I  don't  care.  He's 
breaking  stone,  I  believe — at  any  rate  he's  got  a  government 
job,  and  will  have  for  the  next  five  years. 

Char.  There  !  I  knew  you  wouldn't  like  to  have  me  speak 
of  it. 

Bets  (aside).  Oh,  how  thick  he  is.  (Aloud.)  Charley! 
Did  you  get  all  your  money  ? 

Char.     Yes,  every  cent. 

Bets.     I  suppose  you're  a  rich  man  now. 

Char.  I'm  beyond  want,  unless  I  make  a  foolish  specula- 
tion. 

Bets.     Ahem  !     Such  as  getting  married,  for  instance? 

Char.     Oh,  no  !     I  don't  mean  that. 

Bets.     Then  you  do  intend  to  speculate  in  that  line  ? 

Char.  Yes,  if  a  certain  party  would  go  into  the  scheme 
with  me. 

Bets.     Why  don't  you  ask  her?     I  suppose  it's  a  ''  her." 

Char.     I  think  I  will.  % 

(Dead  silence.     He  looks  at  her,  she  at  him — repeat  several 
times ^  finally  catch  each  other,) 

Bets.     Do  you  remember  the  day  I  brought  you  that  letter? 

Char.     Yes,  I  remember  it  well. 

Bets.     Do  you  remember  what  you  did  ? 

I'^HAR.     Yes,  I  was  so  overjoyed. 
You  did  it  twice,  didn't  you? 
.>Jo,  only  once, 
/hat? 

A^hy,  ran  to  the  express  office  and  got  the  money. 
es  and  crosses  to  c. ;  aside).     He  needs  one  of 
/-story  buildings  to  fall  on  him.     (Aloud.)  -  Don't 
ler  anything  else  you  did  that  day  ? 
fe  !   I — I  kissed  you. 

es,  you  did  1  and  you  were  so  excited  I  don't  be- 
zant to. 


I    .,40  .\  DOWN    EAST. 

(QLj^^  /C  "fe  ^  ^  C, 

P  B  Char.  Yes,  I  did,  Bets,  and  it  set  something  going  here. 
{Hand  on  heart,') 

Bets.     It  couldn't  be  wheels  there. 

Char.  Yes,  the  wheels  of  love,  and  they've  revolved  ever 
since  until  the  friction  is  too  much  for  me  to  bear  alone.  Tell 
me.  Bets,  can  you  return  my  love  ? 

Bets.     No,  not  yet. 

Char.     No  ? 

Bets.  No  !  Cos,  I'm  not  through  with  it  yet.  I  want  to 
keep  it. 

Char.     Bets,  my  darling.     {About  to  kiss  her.) 

Bets.  Oh  !  Don't  kiss  me  here.  Somebody  may  see  you. 
Come  up  here.     {Takes  him  up  to  corner  l.) 

Char.     My  own  love.     {About  to  kiss  her.) 

Enter  Wash.  (^ 

Wash.     I  beg  pardon,  Mr.  Charles.     Dat  fellow  wid  de  roll 
of  bills  is  coming  back,  and  he's  got  a  policeman  wid  him. 
Char.     Good,  he  has  saved  me  the  trouble. 
Wash.     Here  he  comes. 

Enter  Zeke,  drunk. 

Zeke.  Whee  !  I've  seen  it  all.  I  didn't  have  much  time, 
but  I  made  the  best  of  it.  I  saw  everything.  {Sings  **  Streets 
of  Cairo  "  or  something  appropriate.) 

Bets.     Dad,  here  comes  mother. 

Zeke.     Where?     {Braces  up  and  crosses  stage  to  L.) 

Enter  Ralph,  c. 
Ralph.     Oh  !     You  are  still  here,  I  see. 

Enter  Deacon  and  Myra,  r.  u.  e.  ^ 

Dea.  So  be  you,  and  it's  a  darn  good  thing  my  power  S 
constable  don't  extend  to  Chicago,  or  I'd  make  it  hot  for  you. 

Zeke.     Go  it,  deacon  !      Let's  lick  him  on  general  prf 
ciples.     {Advancing. ) 

Bets.     Dad,  he^  comes  mother. 

Zeke  {retreatn.     Where? 

Ralph  {to  DEa.).     Who  are  you  ? 

Myra.  This  gentleman  is  executor  of  my  mother's  will,  and 
came  here  to  take  me  home. 

Ralph  {aside).  She  an  heiress;  what  a  fool  I've  been^j 
{Aloud.)     Myra,  can  you  forgive  me? 


1 


DOWN    EAST.  ,  J 

Myra.     Never  !     Your  last  word  to  me  was  a  promise  that 

iT  him.        man  who  ..saulttd  „e.     (/b/i,,  &  Char  )  '  Arl 

Ralph.     What  do  you  mean  ^ 
yoS.    ^  '""''"  "'^'  y°"  °"'y  "^^^'-'d  ™Pe  enough  to  hang     " 

Char.     Yes,  Mr.  John  Vogel !     I  am  Mr    Middleton    tn 
whom  you  sold  these  green  goods  Middleton,  to 

goo^'dTman,  Hf  ''"'  ""  ^'''^'*^)-     ^'^ '  ^^^^l '  the  green 
her^ttt     [Jt:^^,')'"^  '^  ^^^^"^^  h^  P--d  one  on,  and 
.«.!™.;,.f'"''^^'°'*^°"«"^^-'^ofhopeforme?    (.S/.     , 
Bets.     I  have.     You  won't  get  more  than  ten  vears  for  fhk       - 

OFFICER.     Come ! 

As  they  go  up,  enter  Han.,  c. 

seenanvthk,^thJl?  "^^a     '"""^  *'^"  ^'S^^^^'   ^ut  I   haven't     -• 
seen  anythmg  that  pleased  me  as  much  as  this. 

Rft<5      Tk^-^'  ,  \.Exit  Ralph  and  Officer. 

-Bets.     There  s  one,  ma,  that'll  please  you  more      (Points     ' 
fo -L^^^,  who  ts  making  Muff  to  appear  sober.-)  ^ 

hTn"    ^fV:i^'^^'^^^"^e^l--hing  all  over  the  city  for  you.      ' 

StT'    v^rV^^'''.  ""^y  ^^  ^"^''^  ^h^'  ^e  ^ere  about  ? 
iiETS.     Yes,  if  you're  sure  you  love  me. 

Char.     Sure,  Bets,  yes,  sure ! 

IK^rJ!"-  ^^'  ""^l     ^o*  ^  tl^ey  do  in  Chicago,  where  the 
livorce  judge  works  over  time?  ^ 

ry^  ^3"  1^;--^ 


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In  Child  Land. 

A   COLLECTION  OF  DRILLS,  SONGS,  FINGER-PLAYS  AND  RECITA- 
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CONTENTS. 

PART  L— FINGER  PLAYS. 

LITTLE  HELPERS,     THE  BIRDS, 

THE  SNOW  BIRDS,     THE  CHILDREN'S  PLAY, 

OLD  SANTA  CLAUS  IS  COMING,     THE  MICE, 

THIS  LITTLE  PIG  WENT  TO  MARKET, 

MR.  SQUIRREL. 

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SIXTY-NINE  SELECTED  RECITATIONS  FOR  LITTLE  ONES. 

PART    III.— DRILLS. 

DOLL  DRILL  (for  ten  little  girls). 

SUNFLOWER  DRILL  (for  ten  little  girls  J. 

ATTITUDE  DRILL,      ''GOOD  NIGHT.''  (Song.) 


The  Dolls'  Frolic. 

AN  ENTERTAINMENT  FOR   CHILDREN    IN    ONE    SCENE. 
By  ROSEHARY  BAUM. 

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AN  ENTERTAINMENT  IN  ONE  SCENE. 
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Author  of  "  Jerusha    Dow's    Family   Album,"   "  The   District 
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SYNOPSIS. 

Scene.— The  Old  Maids'  Matrimonial  Club.  The  Club  in  executive 
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if  he  hasn't  a  dollar."  A  few  suggestions  toward  the  propagation  of 
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POPPING   BY   PROXY. 

A  FARCE  IN  ONE  ACT. 
By  O.  E.  YOUNG. 


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A  RANK   DECEPTION. 

A  FARCE    IN  TWO   ACTS. 

By  LILLI  HUGER  SMITH* 

Three  male,  three  female  characters.  Costumes  modern;  scenery 
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SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  I  —  Madelina's  lovers.  "  I  won't  marry  any  one  who  does  n't  take 
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The  Ladies  of  Cranford. 

A  Sketch    of   English  Village    Life    Fifty  Years   Ago. 

IN  THREE  ACTS. 

By  MARY  BARNARD  HORNE, 

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SYNOPSIS. 

ACT  I  —  Miss  Matty's  parlor.  Economy  4  la  Cranford.  Courting 
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lost  brother.    A  cow  in  flannels.    Afternoon  tea.    The  bank  failure. 

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riage in  Cranford.  A  customer.  The  Great  Llama  of  Thibet.  A  gentle- 
man to  see  Miss  Jessie.  Business  methods.  A  shock  to  Cranford.  Miss 
Matty's  equanimity. 

ACT  III  — A  card  party.  The  seat  of  honor.  Jessie's  engagement. 
The  Hon.  Mrs.  Jamieson.  Carlo  and  the  cream.  Sinking  the  shop.  Mrs. 
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back."    A  man  in  Cranford  at  last.    Prosperity. 

Sent^  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price ^  by 

BAKER,  5  HAMILTON  PLACE,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


A  NEW  PATRIOTIC  PLAY. 


BROTHER  AGAINST  BROTHER. 

A  Military  Drama  in  Five  Acts. 
By    BERNARD    FRANCIS   MOORE. 

Author  of  "The  Rough  Rider,"  "Captain  Jack,"  Etc. 

Nine  male,  two  female  characters.  A  stirring  play  of  strong  sym- 
pathetic interest  turning  upon  incidents  of  the  Civil  War.  The  thousands 
who  placed  "  The  Rough  Rider,"  by  the  same  author,  will  find  a  similar 
success  in  this  piece,  which  is  distinguished  by  the  same  qualities  of 
humor  and  action.  Two  strong  leading  parts,  Irish  comedy,  and  a  strong 
heavy  part ;  all  other  parts  effective.  Easy  to  stage,  and  perfectly  suited 
for  amateurs,  for  whom  it  was  specially  written.  Costumes  modern  and 
military  ;  scenery  simple  but  varied.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

Price 16  Cents. 


SYNOPSIS: 

ACT  I.— The  Bennett  home.  *'That  blamed  Irishman."  The  coming 
struggle.  "Yes  or  no."  The  first  rebel  captured.  A  soldier's  wife.  The 
traitor.    A  blow  and  its  recoil.    The  declaration  of  war.  Brother  against 

BROTHER. 

ACT  II.— The  Union  camp.  The  spy.  The  fortune  of  war.  A  secret 
move.  In  a  tight  place.  Ladies  in  camp.  Cornered.  The  dispatches. 
The  capture.    Face  to  face. 

ACT  III.— The  court-martial.  The  weight  of  evidence.  Self-betrayed. 
Alabama  Joe,  the  scout.  A  life  at  stake.  The  whole  truth.  The  tie  of 
blood.  A  brother's  testimony.  The  prisoner's  defence.  "I  am  guilty." 
The  fate  of  a  spy.    Death. 

ACT  IV.— The  prison  cell.  Alone  with  death.  A  surprise.  True  love. 
A  chance  of  escape.  A  strange  promise.  Brothers  and  rivals.  The  trap. 
"The  underground  route."  An  impossible  condition.  "Then  die  like  a  dog." 
An  interruption.  Changing  guard.  "Now  is  your  time."  "I  love  my  coun- 
try, but  you  are  still  my  brother."    The  escape. 

ACT  v.—  Home  again.  The  neglected  farm.  An  Irish-American 
affair.  Sentenced.  "The  first  girl  you  meet."  Living  or  dead.  In  dis- 
guise. "One  slip  of  the  tongue,  and  I  am  lost."  A  disagreable  visitor.  A 
message  from  the  tomb.  "Thank  God  !  he  died  like  a  man  with  his  face  to 
the  foe."  The  cup  and  the  lip.  "Michael,  you  have  saved  my  life."  A  trai- 
tor's death  and  a  patriot's  love.    The  end  op  all. 


An  Old  Maid's  Wooing- 

A  Drama  in  Two  Acts. 

By  riARTHA  RUSSELL  ORNE. 

Author  of  "The  Country  School,"  "A  Limb  o*  the  Law,"  Etc. 

Five  male,  four  female  characters.  Scene,  a  single  easy  interior  ;  cos- 
tumes modern.  An  amusing  little  play  of  American  rural  life,  full  of 
genuine  humor  with  touches  of  pathos.  The  dramatic  interest  is  strong, 
but  that  of  character  is  even  stronger.  Easy  to  play  and  all  the  parts 
effective.    Acts  one  hour. 

Price 15  Cents. 


Sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  hy 

BAKER.  5  HAMILTON  PLACE,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


A  NEW   IRI5H   DRAMA. 


FAUQH=A=BALLAQH 

or,  THE  WEARING  OF  THE  GREEN. 

A  Romantic  Irish  Play  in  Three  Acts. 

By  BERNARD  FRANCIS  MOORE. 

Author  of  "Captain  Jack,"  "The  Irish  Agent,"  "The  Rough  Rider,"  etc. 

Nine  male,  two  female  characters.  Scenery  varied  but  simple  ;  cos- 
tumes military  and  ragged.  Another  Irish  drama  in  this  author's  well- 
known  and  popular  style,  like  its  predecessors  easy  and  effective  to  act, 
and  true  and  sympathetic  in  its  presentation  of  Irish  character.  All 
characters  effective,  both  comedy  and  serious.    Plays  a  full  evening. 

Price 25  Cents. 


SYNOPSIS: 

ACT  I.— The  wearing  of  the  green.  The  patriot  priest.  Black  Don- 
ald's courtship.  The  spy.  Gerald  and  Alice.  Out  of  exile.  The  hour  of 
need.  The  Squire's  plot.  An  unseen  witness.  The  man  of  the  hour.  "I 
know  that  I  can  trust  you."  The  accusation.  A  counter  plot.  To  the  res- 
cue.    The  tables  turned.    The  Green  above  the  Red. 

ACT  II. —  The  outlaw's  home.  An  awkward  squad.  A  soldier  priest. 
Brother  and  sister.  A  discovery.  Betrayed  by  a  friend.  A  good  smoke. 
Kitty  Callahan  and  the  ghost.  Kissing  a  spirit.  An  unfortunate  substi- 
tute. "Take  that  for  yer  throuble."  The  captured  spy.  The  Squire's  danger. 
Alice's  escape.  "Let  us  hang  the  both  of  them."  A  halt.  Face  to  face  at 
last.  The  man  of  God.  Good  for  evil.  "The  road  lies  before  you  —  go!" 
The  Red   above  the  Green. 

ACT  III.— The  cabin  in  the  hills.  Myles  ahead.  Another  taste  of  the 
spirit.  Kitty's  suspicions.  The  ghost's  command.  "In  order  to  save 
yer  life,  I'll  marry  ye."  The  e^^le  and  the  crow.  An  unwelcome  visitor. 
Offers  of  peace.  The  silver  lining.  The  outlaw's  wooing.  Myles  and  the 
Squire.  "  Now  will  I  bust  him  on  the  head  wid  a  bit  o'  rock  ?  "  A  free 
pardon.    Forgive  and  forget.  Westward  ho!  The  Stars  and  Stripes  over 

ALL. 


A  Black  Trump. 

A  "  Black-Face'*  Comedy  in  Two  Acts. 

By   DAVIS  RISDON. 

Three  male,  four  female  characters.  Scenery,  a  simple  interior;  cos- 
tumes, modern  and  rough.  An  entirely  unique  piece  of  its  kind,— a 
"  straight"  comedy  of  light  but  serious  interest,  written  almost  entirely 
for  "colored"  characters.  A  very  amusing  piece,  full  of  characteristic 
darkey  humor,  its  dialect  and  character-drawing  being  wholly^  excep- 
tional in  truth  and  vigor.  Recommended  as  a  downright  novelty  m  enter- 
tainments.   Plays  an  hour. 

Price 15  Centg. 


Senfy  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

BAKER,  5  HAMILTON  PLACE,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


NEW   PLAV5. 

THE  MOONSHINER'S  DAUGHTER. 

A  Play  of  Mountain  Life  in  Three  Acts. 

By  BERNARD  FRANCIS  MOORE. 

Author  of  "The  Wrecker's  Daughter,"  **The  Rough  Rider,*' etc. 

Five  male,  three  female  characters.  Scenery  very  easy  ;  costumes  mod- 
ern and  rough.  An  easy  hut  telling  melodrama  suited  for  young  people 
who  like  plenty  of  "  go  "  and  action,  and  who  may  have  liked  this  author's 
"  Wrecker's  Daughter."  Easy  to  get  up,  cast  small  and  good  throughout, 
in  all  respects  suited  for  amateurs  who  want  to  do  a  little  serious  acting 
without  getting  beyond  their  depths.    Plays  an  hour  and  three-quarters. 

Price        .        .       .       .        .        .       15  Cents. 


SYNOPSIS: 

ACT  I.— Dave  Martin's  house.  Gerald  and  the  gun.  The  revenue 
men.  A  bitter  past.  Father  and  daughter.  A  shadow  from  the  grave. 
The  confession.  "I  killed  him."  The  lost  wife.  "The  fairy  of  the 
mountain."  Blarney.  The  traitor.  An  enemy  in  the  camp.  A  double 
motive.  The  price  of  liberty.  An  accidental  meeting.  "Be  warned  in 
time."  A  counter  warning.  The  stranger.  "  My  God,  my  husband." 
Reunited. 

ACT  II.— The  cave  in  the  mountains.  The  midnight  raid.  "There's 
no  such  word  as  fail."  Gerald's  discovery.  Dave's  last  offence.  A  Judas's 
kiss.  "  Too  late,  too  late."  After  fourteen  years.  Mother  and  daughter. 
The  "  wildcat "  still.  A  generous  gauger.  "  I  am  here  not  to  capture  but 
to  save."  The  counter-mine.  For  love's  sake.  Drawing  the  net.  The 
meeting.  An  infamous  bargain.  A  husband's  arm.  "  Never,  you  devil !  " 
Foiled.  \  _^ 

ACT  III.— In  New  York.  An  anniversar^T^ Visions  of  the  past.  Mat- 
rimonial schemes.  An  enemy  in  the  dark.  "  He  may  strike  through 
those  you  love."  An  alliance.  For  richer  and  for  poorer.  Gerald's  uncle. 
The  serpent  on  the  hearth.  Chloroformed.  Just  in  time.  "  Your  bullet 
pierced  his  heart."    Revenged. 


The  Man  From  Texas. 

A  Farce  in  One  Act. 

By  BERNARD  FRANCIS  MOORE. 

Two  male,  two  female  characters.  Costumes  modern  ;  scenery  simple. 
An  easy  and  amusing  slap-dash  farce  for  young  people.  The  "  Texan 
desperado  "  is  a  capital  part.    Plays  twenty-five  minutes. 

Price 16  Cents. 


Sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price,  by 

BAKER,  5  HAMILTON  PLACE,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


LlLSi 


NEW  PLAYS. 

Nan,  the  Mascotte. 

A  Comedy-Drama  in  Four  Acts. 

By  GILBERT  PATTEN. 

Nine  male,  four  female  characters.  Scenery  not  difficult;  costumes 
modern.  An  up-to-date  American  melodrama,  full  of  action  and  interest. 
This  piece  was  originally  produced  by  professional  talent  under  the  title 
of  "  Men  of  Millions,"  and  was  a  great  success.  It  has  been  played  from 
manuscript  by  amateurs  for  several  seasons,  but  is  now  printed  for  the 
first  time.  Its  characters  are  all  effective  and  nearly  all  of  fairly  even 
prominence.  Soubrette,  strong  lead,  strong  "heavy,"  "hayseed"  and 
"  dude  "  low  comedy,  and  "  old  maid."  Three  men  and  one  woman  may 
"double,"  thus  reducing  cast  by  four  people.  Strongly  recommended. 
Plays  two  and  a  half  hours.  Permission  to  perform  must  be  obtained 
from  the  author. 

Price .        35  Cents. 


SYNOPSIS: 

ACT  I.— Caleb's  home.  Social  ambitions.  "  Borrying."  Nan,  the 
mascotte.  The  cut  finger.  "  If  mother  should  see  us."  Laying  down  the 
law.  An  unwelcome  return.  A  bitter  disappointment.  Her  husband. 
"  You  have  not  seen  the  last  of  me  !  "  Deacon  Smartweed  and  the  "  wid- 
der."  The  see-saw.  The  accident.  "  What'll  the  parson  say?"  An  es- 
trangement. Flood's  return.  The  meeting.  "  That  blow  is  enough."  The 
murder. 

ACT  II.— In  New  York.  Lawyer  vs.  doctor.  The  speculator.  The  life 
of  Wall  street.  The  mascotte.  The  mysterious  chamber.  "The  man  is 
mad."  Nan  and  the  dude.  The  real  man.  In  society.  Prompting  Cupid. 
A  "duck  "  and  a  "  quack."  Eavesdropping.  An  understanding.  A  finan- 
cial crisis.  The  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  The  cat's  out.  Breakers 
ahead. 

ACT  III.— The  Deacon's  visit.  A  changed  wife.  Golden  Queen  stock. 
The  mascotte's  warning.  The  dude  and  the  deacon.  "  Dunno's  I  ever  saw 
anythin'  like  that  before."  Tl<e  lantern.  "Some  garden  sass  for  Sister 
Baldwin."  The  red  ^T^l-a^i-^^The  hc^r  of  trouble.  Sacrificing  her  child. 
The  black  door.  The  big  chief  and  the  butler.  A  fateful  letter.  His  re- 
venge.   A  fearful  price.    A  ruined  man.    Nan  to  the  rescue.     Saved. 

ACT  IV.— Back  in  the  country.  A  dude  sportsman.  "  A  weglar 
wuffian."  A  trial  shot.  "  Gweat  Motheth  !  the  hat  wath  on  a  manth  head." 
The  Deacon's  experiences.  Frackett's  goat.  The  widow's  rescue.  Butted 
into  matrimony.  Flood's  escape.  A  false  report.  A  blessing  in  disguise. 
The  secret  of  the  room.  Jimsy  again.  Hunted  down.  The  arrest.  Nan's 
enlightenment.    For  better  or  for  worse.    "  What'll  the  parson  say  ?  " 


An  Awkward  Squad. 

A  Sketch  in  One  Scene. 

By   ROBERT  n.  BAKER. 

Eight  male  characters,  two  verv  subordinate.  A  very  rapid  and  viva- 
cious fifteen-minute  sketch,  suita{)le  for  vaudeville  purposes,  turning 
upon  a  timely  mHitary  subject.  Irish,  Dutch,  "hayseed"  and  "dude" 
comedy  parts.    All  right. 

Price ir*  Cents. 


StiHff  postpaid^  on  receipt  of  price ^  by 

BASER,  5  HAMILTON  PLAGE,  BOSTON,  MASS. 


